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A Doctor by Any Other Name

Pt.III:  Nature’s Fragile Vessel

ONE:
“Oh, my head,” Martha whispered, clutching her skull like it meant to fall off.“Oh, that thing is rough,” Rose agreed from where she sat on her bum in a damp spot in an alley.  /But at least we’re back./  She’d take a filthy bit of asphalt over slavering hordes of feral people with carnivorous teeth any day of the week.“I've has worse nights,” Jack blew it off, pushing himself to his feet.“Time travel without a capsule,” the Doctor muttered.  “That's a killer.”“But we made it!” Jack pointed out optimistically.  “Earth, twenty-first century by the looks of it.  Talk about lucky.”The Doctor reached out, catching Rose’s hand and tugging her up against him.  “That wasn't luck.  That was me.”  He then held out a hand for Martha, at the same time Jack did. Worryingly, Martha chose Jack’s assistance, refusing even to look at the Doctor./Well, that’s not good/ Rose thought.  She understood why, obviously.  /He could have stopped it, and he didn’t.  She’s got to think he just signed her family off to oblivion.  And she was quite fond of Chantho, as well.  Hell; so was I./Sometimes, accepting the Doctor’s reasoning for things could be a trial and a half.  /Takes more faith than understanding, really.  Faith that he has his reasons, and they’re right.  That he sees the things we can’t, and has to act on that awareness./  But she could certainly see how such trust could be shaken, after something like what they had just survived.As if in league with Rose’s teeming thoughts, Martha pushed herself up against a nearby wall.  “I still don’t understand why you gave him that bloody watch!  Couldn’t we have just brought him with us as Professor Yana?  Brought him back to the past with us, and then gone from there?”“No,” the Doctor answered, eyes darting all about.  He sounded thoroughly distracted.  “It would still have caused a paradox.  There were things he won’t do unless he changes, that need to be done.  I could feel them!  They’re all around us now…”  He trailed off, still looking every which way, like he was fighting to solve a mystery./How much of what he does, really, is all running on instinct, and how much can he, I dunno, articulate?/Jack was also looking a bit askance at him, she noticed.  /Well.  One thing at a time./“Well, we’re here now.  And the moral is, if you're going to get stuck at the end of the universe, get stuck with an ex-Time Agent and his vortex manipulator.”Jack’s quip was a little dry, but it was a solid try.  Only problem was, Martha wasn’t in the mood for cheering-up.  “But the Master’s got the TARDIS!  He could have gone anywhere in time and space!  How do we know he came here first?  Or that we came to the right time to stop him?”“It’s right.  Trust me,” the Doctor answered, unshakable./Sadly, she’s not prepared to trust you right now, Doctor./  “Maybe he used it to go back to an earlier time than we expected?” Rose asked.  “It would explain a lot.  If so, and you kept us on the same trajectory, maybe we can stop the worst of it before it happens?”The Doctor shook his head grimly.  “When he was stealing the Tardis, the only thing I could do was fuse the coordinates.  I locked them permanently.  He can only travel between the year one-hundred-trillion and the last place the Tardis landed.  Which is right here, right now.”/As in, even now, in this time, we can’t change any of it?  Great./“Yeah, but a little leeway?” Jack nudged.  “Say, maybe eighteen months?”If so, they could stop wondering how the guy had managed to take over the Ministry of Defence and all the rest.  /And got married./ “Yeah, fine.  Eighteen months, tops,” the Doctor confirmed finally, looking about.  “But we came back to the time we left; or as close to as I could make it with such an imprecise device.”“Hey!”The Doctor ignored Jack’s protests.  “Why is it so quiet?” he asked of no-one in particular.It took his bringing it up for Rose to notice he was quite right.  The world sounded like it was in the midst of a massive hush before jumping off a high-place.It didn’t last for long, though.  Faint screams were starting to break through the vast silence. And then, the sounds of laser fire. The screams crescendoed into a wall of panicked yelling, along with the sounds of innumerable pounding feet and crashing cars.  Staring at one another, the whole group then broke into a run for the mouth of the alley… and exited into a nightmare.People were running every which way, shrieking like the damned.  And they were pursued.  Hundreds… No, thousands of Toclafane spheres were dashing after them mid-air, gunning people down in droves with their disintegration lasers.  They darted down from the upper air in swarms, swooping and diving, each attack run deadly. Following them up, Rose gasped to see the sky darkened; blanketed with droves of them.  “Doctor!”The Doctor wasn’t listening, though.  Glancing back at him, she saw the sudden tide of agony in his face.  He had tears in his eyes, looked about to crumple as he realised that they had, in fact, come back to the exact right moment… and fallen into a war they hadn’t known they had precipitated.  “My fault.  This is all my fault!”/Well, that’s not helpin’!/  “Doctor; this isn’t your fault; it’s his.”  /You didn’t know what would come of it!/  “So let’s stop him!”  /We don’t have time to fall apart!  He’s killin’ everyone!/“We’ve got to hide!” Martha was shouting.  “Before they shoot us!”The Doctor appeared unable to hear anyone.  “I thought I could get through to him,” he went on in stricken tones.  “I thought if I just said the right things…”Left without recourse, Rose grabbed his arm and helped Jack and Martha to drag him back into the false shelter of the alley with its overhang.  /If we could get into a warehouse or something…/ “Here!” Jack called in a strident whisper, dodging into a random doorway. They followed him inside, found themselves in what looked like the back storage room of a pub.  They huddled there, beside kegs of lager and cases of whiskey, hoping the Toclafane weren’t as yet penetrating indoors. The Doctor appeared unaware of their altered surroundings.  Like he couldn’t get past what had just occurred.  Like he was broken.  “I really thought…” he whispered./Damn./  “That’s the problem with old friends,” Rose told her wounded man in an agitated aside.  “You never want to cut them off completely, even when they’ve changed entirely and you don’t know them anymore.”  /Like Geraldine./  Once upon a time, Shareen, Rose, and Geraldine Beauregard had been an accepted trio.  If you saw one of them around the Powell Estate, you knew the others were somewhere close to hand.  But Geraldine had grown apart from them, a few years back.  Gone her own way near the end of secondary.  Became cliquish.  Got her A-levels, went on to uni in Warrick…  /And now she doesn’t speak to us anymore.  Pretends she never lived in Council housing, and that she’s better than all of us.  New friends, new life; would probably deny ever knowing us that well.  Maybe even believes it herself, by now./ Geraldine was always at the back of Rose’s mind when she recalled her mother’s pet phrase, ‘airs and graces’.  “I understand your wanting to keep that connexion, Doctor.  I do.  That you want it so badly that you were willing to risk…”“I gambled!” the Doctor interrupted, tones fierce and broken.  “And I lost; for everyone.”“Yeah, you did,” Martha muttered, like she had just had all her illusions destroyed./Shit/ Rose thought, eloquently. “I did this,” the Doctor murmured, clearly taking Martha’s response to heart./This isn’t good.  We can’t have you fallin’ apart like this!/  Siezing his hand, Rose yanked him around to face her.  “You listen to me!  We don’t have time for this!  And it’s not gonna help anybody, alright?”  She’d tried her best to understand that pull between those two; a combination of nostalgia for a person who was gone, and regret for a betrayal that was long in the past, part of the fabric of things.  Add to that the desperate need to be known by one of his own kind, again, and... Well.  She of all people bore witness to the dreadful loneliness that had pulled at him for most of his existence by now; since he had apparently fled from his initiation as a Time Lord.  He wanted it over, and she couldn’t blame him for that, but…  /But my part is to keep him going, when these things hit!  Keep him hoping, keep him positive!/ Searching for something to say to get the wind back in his sails, she settled on, “He’ll still want you there to witness his triumph, right?”Jerked back to the present and its requirements, the Doctor blinked over at her.  “Oh, yes.  He certainly will.”“So, then… let’s phone,” Rose urged, because being up there in his clutches, on that ship, was going to give them a lot better leverage on the situation than huddling down here trying not to get disintegrated.  /Doubt these spheres of his discriminate amongst the hordes, when they’re blasting everyone to bits!/  “Manipulate the situation.  Use his narcissism against him!”“Hm.  We can teleport up,” Jack put in, already fiddling with his device.  He shook it, then, like a person jiggling a clock to make it kick on.  “Why’s it acting drained?  Damn!”Rose reached out, covered his hands.  “Doesn’t matter.  That thing’s inaccurate.  We could end up embedded in steel or something, or too ill to fight back.  Anyway, it’s used up a lot of juice, jumping us back from the end of the universe!  Save it, in case we need it to escape him!”“Good point,” Jack agreed, lowering his arm.  His expression was set, bleak.  “So… we just call for an official ride?”“Yeah.  You’re right,” the Doctor breathed, straightening.  “Here; Martha.  Give us your phone.  It’s been connected to his mobile once.  I can back-track that link, get him on again.”Frowning censoriously, Martha handed over her phone.  “Fix this!” she hissed at him, expression bitter.  “Tell him whatever the hell he wants to hear, but fix it!  Before more people die!”/You’re not helping, Martha./  But Rose got it.  Her friend, a healer at heart, had just watched hundreds of people slaughtered right before their eyes.  Her family were hiding in Spain, and could easily be located and used against her.  And the one man who might have stopped it had allowed it to happen, just hoping that everything would work out. She was understandably disillusioned right now.The Doctor avoided her eye, looking more ashamed than Rose thought she had ever seen him; or at least since he’d worn another face, and sat trapped with her in a locked-up room in Ten Downing Street.  He didn’t reply as he briefly pressed his screwdriver to the device, then lifted the phone to his ear. The response was immediate.  ‘Doctor!  How wonderful!  You made it back!’“Bit harried at the moment,” the Doctor husked, sounding extremely emotionally compromised.  “But one must carry on.”  A brief pause.  “You were a far nicer sort as a human, you know.”‘I was a ponce!  But enough of that now.  I assume you’ve misfired, and are stuck down there amidst the invasion?  Well, that’ll never do.  But maybe I can save you, since you were so kind as to enable my great victory!’The Doctor looked as if he’d been punched in the mouth, hearing this.  He didn’t speak, but his lips went white.  Rose moved closer in case he needed a hand to hold, but didn’t force it on him.  He was going through it, right now, and he had that odd habit of trying to keep himself between her and the Master even when they weren’t physically in the same space. Unsurprisingly, he didn’t reach for her just yet; instead letting the Master rant on from the other end of the line.  His eyes were like staring, unblinking stones as the rogue Time Lord rattled away.  ‘I suppose I could send you down a contingent of soldiers, to pick you up and bring you to me.  If I’m feeling expansive.  But you’ll have to beg.’/Oh, for fuck’s sake; this pillock!/  He really was a complete prat, wasn’t he?  /All he wants is for the Doctor to admit he’s bettered him.  It’s so childish!/And the Doctor, with all that had just occurred, seemed willing to humble himself.  “Please,” he near-whispered.  “Bring us up where it’s safe, and we can watch your glory.”He even managed to sound less than sassy at the last.He’d taken just the right tone, it seemed.  ‘I like it when you’re modest in the face of my genius!  Alright, then.  I’ve sent my people.  Come up as quick as you can, Doctor!  As you’ve noted, the countdown has ended, and a new one begun.  If you want to save yourselves, keep the lines of communication open so they can locate you!’“Alright,” the Doctor acknowledged.  His voice sounded quite dead as he said it./He sounds defeated.  Oh, this is not good./Something like twenty harrowing minutes later, the sound of marching troops found their ears.  Seconds later, the door behind them exploded open, and they were summarily seized by uniformed men wearing special forces garb, cable-tied at the wrists, and frog-marched out onto the street.  It was almost a relief.  They couldn’t do anything that whole time, to help anything; had to simply sit there and listen to the screams and groans of the terrified and the dying outside while doing nothing to aid anyone.  /Rather join in and be arrested by his lot than do nothing, me./They were hustled aboard a sort of shuttle and shoved into the back, to sit in a circle on the floor behind the troops’ jump-seats; pressed to the rear wall as the shuttle blasted off again, taking them swiftly and with great changes in ear-pressure, back up to the hovering Valiant.“Don’t look out the window,” one of the soldiers croaked in broken tones as they accelerated.  “Don’t look at what they’re doing.”“We can’t do anything,” another answered, a sob in his voice.  He was young, only about Rose’s age, and had tears streaming down his face.  “Why is this happening?  Why is the Prime Minister killing everyone?”“I dunno, mate,” another, older commando answered, face bleak and set.  “But we’re really in it, now.  ‘Cause I think he’s just made himself king of the bleedin’ world.”“And we’re stuck bein’ his honour-guard,” another put in, sounding as if he might just be sick.  “Hanging about, attending his ass while he kills everyone who disagrees with him.  Never thought I’d see the day!”“Does anyone know if the Queen’s alive?” a fourth asked of his mates.  He sounded about to be sick.None of them answered him.  Rough one for this lot to face, given this sort tended to consider the Queen their personal boss.  /If he’s killed the royal family, as well, will they rebel?/Rose found her mind flinching away from the very idea; of armed insurrection, of the royals lying dead in Buckingham Palace…  /No more footie, the lot.//Everything’s a bit too real right now/ she thought, and because at this point, what the hell, right?  She reached out, fumbling with her bound-together hands, seeking the Doctor’s.  /He might be too angry with himself right now to try to hold mine, but I badly need to hold his!/He didn’t push her away or anything, which was a relief… but he almost seemed too shell-shocked to answer her summons.  His hands remained limp in hers; his fingers twitching like a dying animal struck by a car.  It was a long flight back up to the flying aircraft-carrier.  Twenty minutes that felt like a trip to another world.  /A dimension where an evil mirror-image of my Doctor, a Time Lord with delusions, turns the human race into slaves rather than saving them.  And he has a personal grudge with the one being who can save us all; has him held captive, subject to his mad whims.  Worse, what can we even do about it?/***The instant they landed on the Valiant, the soldiers grabbed them, lifting them by their bound arms and dragging them to the door while they were still getting their feet under them.  “C’mon!” the stone-faced leader barked, like his soul had left him behind on the trip.  “Our lord and master wants a word.”He sounded as dead-voiced as the Doctor while he said it.They were prodded forward, to stumble into the main cabin that housed the rather posh flight-deck they had left a trillion years and an hour ago.  Saw him there, standing with his arms clasped in Lucy Saxon’s hands; like they had just been interrupted while dancing on the grave of the world.  The last strains of “Voodoo Child” by the Rogue Traders whooped on in the background.  ‘Here come the drums. Baby, baby, baby, you are my voodoo child!  It's supernatural. I'm coming undone.  Baby, baby, baby...’  And raging on behind it, the sickly, laundry-machine swishing of the altered TARDIS, churning out another paradox. From the screen over to one side of the bridge, tinny voices shouted desperately for help amidst the unexpected apocalypse below.  ‘Valiant, this is Geneva.  We're getting slaughtered down here.  Valiant, report.  Help us!  For God's sake, help us!  They're everywhere!’  Other reports in other languages, as well; unintelligible, but filled with the exact same note of terror and confusion.  Then, ‘This is London, Valiant!  This is London calling.  What do we do?  They're killing us!  The Toclafane are all around.  They're killing us!’/And they’ll go on doin’ it.  And he’s not going to help any of you./Ignoring the calls for aid, the Master smirked down upon the people he now had at his mercy; the only people who might have stopped him.  “Ah, here you are again!  And now that you’ve done what I needed you to do, I can have my way with you, dear Doctor!”Rose heartily wished this wanker would stop shooting innuendos at her man.  It was unsightly. “So, tell me; what do you think of my triumph?  Thank you for that!”  His arm shot out past Lucy, a screwdriver in his hand. Rose screamed as a dart of energy blasted from it to hit the Doctor slap-bang in the middle of his chest.  /Can he regenerate if he’s disintegrated?  Can he…/He didn’t disintegrate, though.  Instead, he fell into horrific convulsions that seemed to go on forever.  When they finally ended, the Master lifting his weapon for a second like the Emperor giving Luke Skywalker a breather, his expression read as triumphant.  He had his chin lifted, even; like he was looking down ever so far at his fallen foe.At his feet, at the base of the steps, the bound Doctor lay, like a crumpled bit of paper… and his face!  /God; he looks a hundred years old!  What the hell did you do to him?/Rose broke, racing over to his side to help him as best she could with her bound wrists, while the asshat on stage wittered on like a bellend.  “Remember Professor Lazarus?” the Master asked of the whole room, sounding impossibly self-impressed.  “Remember him and his genetic manipulation device?”  His eyes darted over to land on Martha, mocking and full of insane hubris.  “What, did you think that little Tish got that job merely by coincidence?”  His gaze dashed back to the Doctor, who was slowly and painfully pushing himself up on his shaking arms.  “I've been laying traps for you all this time!”He was so self-important!  Rose did her best to ignore him as she cradled her stricken love, his head lolling in her arms.  “Doctor?  I've got you.”  Saw in his weary, ancient eyes, as he shook his head at her in wordless warning; to stay back, stay out of it.  “No!” she insisted aloud; a low, fierce hiss.  “I’m not leaving your side, and you know it!”“Oh, that’s sweet,” the Master crooned, like he thought they were just too cute; enough so that he ought to destroy them.  “Such love, such loyalty, for such an old, decrepit creature.  But can you love him, Rose, if he’s even more ancient?”  He lifted the altered screwdriver again.“NO!” Rose heard herself shriek.  Sans coherent thought, she threw herself between them; perfectly willing to launch herself at this bastard if it saved her Doctor any further anguish.“No…” the Doctor moaned, reaching out with his bound hands to try to forestall her sacrifice.  “Rose…”  His voice sounded horribly thick, faltering with advanced age.“Look, can you get out of the way?” the Master urged her, seemingly irritated at the interruption.  “This is between us.  And, no offence, but you’re beneath my notice.  Even if you did once hold the Time Vortex.” The sonofabitch had overheard way too much, back there in the trillions.  “I did it once, to save him.  I can do it again!”
“Rose…”
She ignored the Doctor’s pained urgings, coming to her feet to place herself firmly between the two Gallifreyan combatants.  “I won’t let you hurt him!”The Master’s expression altered, going from irritated to amused.  “Oho!  This one’s just full of spirit, isn’t she?  I can see why you chose her as your little human concubine, Doctor!  And here I thought you’d never fall to the weaknesses of the flesh.  How the mighty, the great self-important Last Time Lord has fallen!”/Yeah, fine; he fell for a human.  So what?/  “You can talk, with your human bit on the side, there!” Rose countered, fed up of this twat.“Who, Lucy?”  The Master flung out his free arm, gathered his human wife unprotestingly to his side.  “She knows better than to ignore my instructions, though.  Knows to do what she’s told.”/Oh, wow.  You’re disgusting!/“Huh.  He must really have failed in training you properly,” the prick ranted on, waving his screwdriver in little flourishes.  “You don’t know your place!”/Oh, and I suppose you plan to show it to me?/ Let him try.  “I’ve fought Daleks.  I disintegrated their emperor.  You don’t frighten me.”“Rose…” the Doctor moaned at her feet.  He sounded fair horrified at the turn the conversation had taken.“Rose!” Martha hissed from behind her, joining in.  “Don’t egg him on!  Can’t you see it’s what he wants?”“Ah, the would-be doctor… and the human plaything,” the Master taunted, because he simply had to have the last word.  “But you never answered my question!” he added, like he was savouring the words.  He had his head tilted now as he examined Rose; like he found her oddly fascinating.  “Can you love him when he’s actually forced to show his age?”  He had his laser screwdriver held high again.  “I can concentrate all that Lazarus technology into one little screwdriver…  But how, you ask?  Oooh; if I only had the Doctor's biological code!  Oh, wait a minute, I do.” Kneeling, he opened a large, metal briefcase at his feet, lifted out a familiar cannister.  “I've got his hand!”“Shit!” Jack cursed behind her, with feeling. /Right?/  Why they hadn’t thought he would find that in the TARDIS and somehow make use of it, Rose had no idea, but damn him for it!“…And if Lazarus made himself younger, what if I reverse it?  What say you to, oh, another hundred years?”  Having gained another angle, from his crouch, the Master darted another zap at the Doctor, round Rose’s legs.Unable to block the blast, she pivoted, falling to her knees at his side as he went into more godawful, rapid convulsions.  “Oh, Doctor,” she whispered when it ended, cradling his face to her breast.His weary, immortal eyes gazed up at her; full of anguish, but the same as ever, nestled deep in the folds of aged, degraded flesh.  /I wanted you to be able to grow old with me someday; but I didn’t mean like this!/Then his elderly, exhausted eyes darted away; back to the Master looming above him.  “Leave them alone,” he whispered, his voice crackling, brittle, without the vigour of his past self.  “Please.  It’s me you want; and you’ve got me.  But leave them be.”  A brief hesitation, and then creaking, pleading, with his hands bearing down desperately on Rose’s fingers; like all his remaining strength lay there, held between them.  “I’m begging you.”The sound of him pleading with this maniac on their behalf—on hers—broke Rose’s heart entire.  /You won’t convince him now, though.  Not especially when you already couldn’t when he was at his best, as a human!/ She had worried that his faith in his co-species-ist would be betrayed, if they couldn’t stop the Master in the far future.  It seemed her fears were about to be realised, and then some.“Where’s the fun in that?” the Master shot back, negligently dropping the hand back into the briefcase and rising to watch them indolently.  “Instead, what say I keep your little toy here to entertain me?  And the others, of course; but mostly her.”His tones implied a wealth of disgusting indiscretions.  And honestly, Rose wouldn’t put it past him.  /Rape, probably not such a big thing to him; or coercion as payment for keeping the Doctor safe.  Not after the murder of thousands!/The impact of the suggestion blasted through the Doctor, hitting Rose full-force with his terror on her behalf.  Which was when she realised in full the leverage the Master currently held over them all.  /Same as using Martha’s family against her.  He’s threatening me specifically because he knows just from how he acts with me, how important I am to him.  That makes me like catnip to this prick.  The best lever he can have./  It would hurt the Doctor a lot if the Master harmed Martha and Jack, of course, since he considered them his responsibility.  But with her, there was also the bit where they could literally feel one another’s pain.  /Makes me the best tool he can imagine to force the Doctor to capitulate.  Oh, God…/ The laser screwdriver moved upward again; this time pointing directly at Rose’s heart.  “Or, there’s the other option.  The quick and easy one.  What’ll you do if I end her short, human life right in front of you?”The Doctor immediately struggled out of her arms, striving with all the energy left in his frail body to dive at the Master.  To disarm him; or failing that, to fling himself between them.  “Doctor!” Rose heard herself shriek, striving in turn to grab him, pull him back down. Behind her, Martha and Jack surged forward to ring them, both shouting incomprehensible syllables.  “Leave ‘em alone!” Martha screamed.  “Just stop!”“Yeah, you’ve won!  Isn’t that enough?” Jack scolded the renegade Time Lord.The Master regarded their little huddle with interest, like they were a misbehaving science experiment.  Then, with a little wriggle, he tilted his screwdriver-arm out in a sort of shrug and waggled his head from side-to-side like he thought their byplay worthless.  Like he had long since decided their fates.  “Erm, no.  Not really.  You see, I haven’t heard him beg nearly loudly enough.  Certainly not for as long as I could, given all the tools I have to hand.” /Oh, for fuck’s sake!/  If this idiot had a weakness, it was his hubris.The Master pursed his lips, then, eyes sliding from Rose to Martha to the Doctor.  (Jack, he seemed to discount utterly.)  “Tell me, Doctor.  Why do you keep the spare around, when you have a companion who can absorb the Vortex?  Do you just enjoy the variety, or something?  Because that I can understand, I think…”  He grinned back at Lucy, who was watching him with pale, frozen eyes, her smeared lipstick far too red for her pallid features.  “Only one plaything can get rather dull, I suppose.”She flinched and looked away; like he’d shot her.  Rose, who remained baffled that anyone could fall for this sick bastard, wondered for about the tenth time what the hell made her stay with his insane arse.The Doctor didn’t try to defend his methods, much less to speak up for any of their special talents.  He remained silent, eyes burning in their wrinkled beds as he glared impotent fury at his tormentor.  But then, after a second…  “You’re jealous of a human?  Really?”  He said it like he, too, was willing to discount them entirely.  Which wasn’t his MO at all; so much so that Rose knew without considering the matter that he was fighting hard to redirect the Master’s attention away from his dependents.  To deflect it back onto himself.“I mean, you can understand my confusion,” the Master responded, sounding downright befuddled.  “That she’s actually a rival for your attention, your acclaim in the face of my wondrous works…”/Oh, wow.  Seriously?/  Rose might have fallen to giving the prat a piece of her mind, if it wouldn’t undo everything the Doctor was trying to do to save them all.  So, though it pained her, she kept her mouth firmly shut and just let them carry on with their outdated lovers’ quarrel.“About that.  The Toclafane,” the Doctor gasped, his voice a mere, rattling croak.  “What are they?  Who are they?”/Might ask that.  Nice segue./“Oh, Doctor, if I told you the truth, your hearts would break.”  The smarmy bastard sounded like he thought he really was the most brilliant creature in creation.  “So, then.”  He scrubbed his hands together briskly.  “End of the world!”  Positively cheery about it, he was.  “Here come the drums!  Do you like my work?”  He turned round to eye the pale woman who’d consented to act as his bedmate, and gestured toward the big bank of windows, to the clouds of flocking spheres outside.  “How many, do you think?”“I…  I don't know,” she whispered, overwhelmed.“Six billion!  Six billion Toclafane.  One for every man, woman, and child on Earth.  Fitting, isn’t it?”  He turned his gaze away from the swarms beyond the windows, back to his prey.  “What do you think, Doctor?  Shall I decimate them?  That sounds good.  A nice word, decimate.  Remove one tenth of the population!  What would that be?  Six-hundred million souls?  Lovely!”The words echoed in the vast, posh space; like a death knell.  /So many.  Oh God; it’s more than the Cybermen and the Daleks managed; put together!/  “What’ll we do?” she heard herself whisper.  Heard the horror in her own voice like it was coming from somewhere far away.  /I’m in shock./At her side, Martha had been reduced to shaking her head from side-to-side in a repetitive denial, her mouth hanging open and her eyes staring in dread.  Beyond her, Jack just looked pissed off.Up there on the flight deck, the Master had turned away from them, like he thought they were defeated, beneath his notice.  “See, there, Lucy?” he chortled madly, waving a hand to indicate the world below.  “You can almost hear their screams!”While he was distracted, the Doctor’s old, weakened eyes drifted past them, over to Jack.  He did a shaky little nod.  In Rose’s periphery, Jack nodded back solemnly.  Then the Doctor was back with Rose, expression so intent it felt like a blow.  “What you’ll do is leave,” he informed her, flat and uncompromising and so firm that his old voice didn’t even crackle.Rose was too stunned to conceptualise what the hell he had just proposed.  “What?”“Some things you can’t change no matter what you do,” he insisted, low and fierce.  “But I’ll not let you pay for my mistakes.”/No!  You can’t do this to me again!/  “Don’t.”  It came out dignified, but she wasn’t at all sure how.  She felt like screaming at him.The regret he bore, facing her down, was real, and poignant… and unwilling to bend.  “I have to,” he husked painfully.  She knew it wounded him quite fatally to part them again, saw the unwilling tears leaking from his eyes.  “I won’t let him hurt you because of how important you are to me.”  And then his withered lips firmed up.  “Get out.  Jack’s right.  Get Martha and get out.”From behind them came the telltale sound of Jack ripping off the Velcro of the wristband.  “It’s got a couple bars again.  Enough to teleport.”Rose kept her eyes locked on her partner, her love.  /I can’t.  Not again!/  “Don’t make me do this.”  /Don’t make me abandon you.  Don’t make me leave your side again!/“I can’t lose you,” the Doctor whispered to her, eyes pleading.  “You know it.  Please.”  His rickety, bound hands moved upward by increments; slow and tender as he brushed her cheek with the fingers he could manage to reach her from where he lay, toppled over on his elbow.  “Please; my valiant, wonderful Rose.  For me.  Live to fight another day.”/Oh, God./  It was like tearing herself in two.  “Doctor…”
“Please.”
“Rose!” Martha called in a tight, sotto cadence.  “Grab on!  We can’t help anyone from here!”In spite of her best efforts, the tears were falling.  “But how can we help from down there?” Rose heard herself demand, her voice breaking.  /My Doctor…/ “We can’t stop him!” Jack whispered urgently.  “Get out of here!  Martha; I’ll get in touch.  I promise!”Too late, though.  Finally taking notice of their little conference, the Master pivoted back to watch them.  “Oh, don’t leave yet!  Remember, Martha Jones, who I have in my back pocket!  You need to stay here to protect them!”Martha jerked like she’d been shot as a clutch of grim-faced, reluctant soldiers appeared from the door beside the dais.  Prodding and spitting orders, the bunch emerged from the outer corridor to disgorge her father, mother, and sister.  They no longer wore cable-tie bracelets, so that was something.  Were no longer in their street clothes, either; like they had been given a horrific makeover since their missing member had been sent on to the far future.  The latter two were now wearing servants’ garb, the former a workman’s coverall.  All of them had marks on their faces, like they had been struck.  Their eyes were wild with fear, their hair in disarray.The threat was clear.  He was holding them as his personal slaves in an effort to keep Martha in hand.  “Mum…” Martha moaned, undone.“I'm sorry,” her mother mouthed back to her.It was only the same three, though.  They didn’t appear to have located Leo or his partner, nor yet the baby, during the time they had been gone.  That was something.Martha reached back, fumbling without looking, her eyes locked on the captives.  Rose knew what she was thinking.  /Like I thought.  Leverage against all of us!  Jack, with Martha and me.  The Doctor, me and all of us.  Martha, with Jack and her family…/She saw it the moment Martha realised; that the only reason the Master would have to torment her family would be if she was there as audience.  That by removing herself, she was removing the impetus for something she could not witness, if only to cause him to kick his feet in glee over the entertainment of it.  /Of watching us all squirm while he holds power over us all./It was the same reason Rose should leave now; and time she admitted it.  So that she couldn’t be used against the Doctor… and so that he couldn’t be used against her, to get her to do the things that would destroy his soul on her behalf.“Rose…” Martha pled, agony limning every syllable./Oh, God.  For all their sakes, then./  Rose dropped her gaze to the remains of her Doctor, lying there in a heap on the floor.  Just wrinkled flesh and flaring eyes locked, desperate on hers.  “I’ll come back,” she told him.  “I promise.”“I know.”  The way he was looking at her… /Like I’m his only hope./  “Any last instructions?” she breathed as she backed into Martha and grabbed onto the device strapped to her wrist.“Remember the network.  The countdown.”/Whatever the hell that means, that’ll have to do.  For now./  She would not abandon him forever, though, to be toyed with by that maniac.  /I won’t!  I’ll fight for him, because he’s mine, damn you!/  “Martha.”  Because he was right.  /Up here, he’ll just use me against him.  Down there, at least maybe we can do some good./As they teleported away, the last thing they saw before the scene vanished, was the Master dashing down the steps to catch them.  /Too late, you bitch!/And then they were gone.***“What did he say?”Rose turned back to her, tearing her eyes from the distant sight of the floating Valiant, high above with streams and clouds of Toclafane zipping round it; a vast murmuration of metallic death.  “He said ‘remember the network, and the countdown’.  Whatever the hell that means.”Martha could scarcely think, could barely bring words to her lips.  She felt sure she was in shock.  That last glimpse of her captive, shaken family…  /But they didn’t have Leo.  Did he get away?/  “Remember the network?”“Yeah.”  Rose glanced around them, as if only just taking note of where the vortex manipulator had dropped them off.  “Are we on Hampstead Heath?”“Looks that way.  Bet it didn’t have enough power left to get us far.”  Martha joggled the wrist bearing the teleportation device.  The digital bar on it was at a nadir reading, and was coloured a warning, blinking scarlet.  /When we left the far future, it was at green and go.  At low amber up on the Valiant.  Probably can’t use it again for at least another day./  “What I want to know is, just what the hell does he expect us to do, from down here?”“Well, firstly, to stay away from that bastard,” Rose murmured, eyes drifting back to the terrifying vista above.  Like she’d left her heart and soul behind up there.  Her voice went fierce, uncompromising.  “Then, we find a way to fight him!” /But how?/  “Like, some sort of resistance movement, or…”  Martha shook her head slowly; feeling lost in the face of such a massive, impossible undertaking.  “No, listen.  He’s got to save us!  He has to find a way!  He owes it to us!” Rose blinked over at her, expression baffled.  “He is.”The certainty in her voice had Martha goggling.  “What?  What the hell do you mean?  By sending us down here to…  To…”“The TARDIS has been turned into a paradox machine,” Rose interrupted her furious stammers.  “Which means there’s some sort of… Time energy wanting to snap back; make things right.  The Master’s using the TARDIS to hold it like this; against its will.”“Against…”  Martha felt as if she were scrambling to keep up.“Yeah.”  Her friend’s voice had gone distant, her eyes remote.  “The universe wants this to stop—to go back right.  It doesn’t like disruptions like this.  But it can’t, so long as she’s cannibalised like he did it, and being used against the fabric of things.  Like…  Like if you jam a stick in a door to prop it open.  If it slips even the slightest little bit, it’ll slam shut.  Break your fingers, like as not.” /Oh.  That’s…  That’s a great analogy!/Rose shook her head, deep in thought.  “And he said to remember the network.”  She paused briefly, while Martha was still absorbing this leap.  “He can only be talkin’ about that bloody Archangel Network.  Something to do with it, and the fact that there’s a paradox on!” Martha could almost see the calculations on her face as she pondered it all.  “The Master said that a new countdown is starting.  So then…”  She hesitated, still fighting to put it all together.Martha found her voice, somehow.  Wet her lips, feeling beyond overwhelmed.  “What do you think he wants us to do?”Rose turned back to meet her eyes, her own blazing.  “I think this wasn’t supposed to happen.  I think it’s not a fixed point in time; or he wouldn’t need a paradox to make it work!  If the door’s meant to open, it’ll stay open on its own!  But this one isn’t; which means if we engage that network, somehow…”  It was like an explosion of energy when she reached the optimal conclusion.  “That’s the key!  Then eventually time’ll snap back.”  She caught Martha’s arm in a grip so tight it bruised, eyes wild in a pale, glaring face.  “Then it all won’t have happened!  If the Doctor can just summon the strength to turn that network back against the Master, the paradox will collapse, and it’ll all go back to the way it was!”It sounded like witchcraft.  Like nonsense.  And yet, at the same time, Rose had been with the Doctor for a couple of years by this point.  She knew her stuff.  “Do you really think…”  /My family, safe.  All those people, alive again.  But… only here?  Since the moment he took our TARDIS and turned it into this paradox machine?/Time was a baffling puzzle.  /That means, not Chantho.  Maybe not our hearts, either.  But if we can save everyone else.../  “If you’re sure,” she answered doubtfully.In response, Rose laughed aloud, sounding bitter as all hell.  “I’m not sure of anything, anymore, Martha.  Except for one.”/Oh.  One guess what thing that is./  “Him.”  It wasn’t a question.In answer, her eyes turned so bloody ferocious that Martha could well imagine how she’d looked with the Time Vortex blasting out of her.  “Never doubted him, never will.”/I didn’t used to, either.  But after this…/  “I’ll have to take your word for it.”To her amazement, Rose lunged.  Grabbed her hand, voice intense and throbbing with passion.  “Martha, listen.  I get it.  I do.  With everything that’s happened…”“He could have stopped it!”  The words burst out of her; exploding like white-hot bullets.  “He could have held the bastard back there; kept him human… and he let him go.  To come here and do this!”  /So many dead…  Jack, still back there, to be tortured, killed over and over again, in whatever mental way he can think of to entertain himself.  My family…/  Her mind shuttered over that thought.  Of what he might do to her people, while she gallivanted around down here wasting time, trying to accomplish the impossible.  /And him!  Just sitting up there; old and incapable, and…  And beaten!/“He didn’t know what was going to happen.  He couldn’t see into this.  He told me over and over again that he couldn’t see it.  That it drove him mad.”Martha frankly didn’t want to be talked down just yet, by logic or no.  She wanted to be angry, wanted someone to blame.  But…  “He should have done,” she insisted, furious and afraid.Rose nodded all too calmly, in that way that continued to drive Martha batty, with everything.  “One thing I’ve learned over my time with him, it’s that some things can’t be changed no matter how hard you might want them to be.  Like my father’s death, or the end of his entire world.”  A quiet reminder, likely, that he had lost more than they ever would.  “But I’ve also learned something even more important; and that’s that if it is in any way possible, he’ll fix it.”  She insisted upon it; her entire being flaming with conviction.  “I promise you, Martha.  You’ve got to believe in him!  The things I’ve seen him do…”/Fine, but…/  “But what the hell can we do with the network to stop that prick?  Turn the satellites into lasers to shoot the Valiant down?  He’s got the world’s militaries on tap, now!  How can we…”The reminder, when it came, was almost withering.  “He doesn’t use guns.”  Rose leaned in, voice so intense it shook.  “Remember.  The Doctor said it passed subliminal messages.  Like hypnosis.  So there’s something he wants us to do with that.  Something subversive.”  Her expression cleared then, as if she’d seen a vision.  “So then, that’s it.  We spread the word.”None of this made sense to Martha; not in the slightest.  “Spread the word about what?”Rose didn’t slow a whit.  “About him.  The Doctor, and how he’ll save us all.”The unshakeable belief in her voice really had Martha taken aback.  “How do you just… believe in him, like that?  With everything that’s happened, how...”Rose came back to the present, and to Martha’s surprise, she did a little tremulous smile.  The vulnerability helped to take her seriously; her words, not so much.  “Because he’s never once failed me.”Martha looked away.  Behind them, London was burning.  /You don’t call this a failure?/“I know what you’re thinking.  But he had to do what he did.  I have to believe that he was right about that.  That the only place we can fix this is here; in this time!”This was mad.  Mental; completely insane.  /And yet…/  Her eyes drifted back to the smouldering ruin that had once been London Town.  /We don’t have anything left to lose, do we?  So then, can I do that?  Can I believe again?  Can I have enough faith to pass it on to others?  To start a movement?/She wasn’t sure.  She wasn’t even sure this was what the Doctor intended.  It would have taken her days, all spent on the run, trying to survive and to evade troops circling the population centres, before she would have muddled through the opaque message, understood what the Doctor wanted them to do.  /But, would I have ended up coming to any other conclusion?/The answer was, invariably, no.  /So, that has to be what he means.  And it’s all we have left to do.  Just… believe.  That he can fix it, if we have faith./It was a tall order.  Bonkers.  And yet…  /It sounds like him./“Think of it this way,” Rose murmured, catching up her hand.  “At least we still have these.”  She lifted the TARDIS key hanging round her neck in illustration.“Yeah.  That’s a blessing,” Martha answered around a thick, sardonic laugh.  She blew out a huffing breath.  “Okay.  What’s first?”Rose shrugged, lifting her eyes once more to the heavens.  It seemed she had little trouble with maintaining her own faith, right now.  Like she might not believe in god, but she believed in the Doctor.  “We stay alive.  We make contact with others.  I’ll introduce you to Sarah Jane.  She can introduce us to anyone else who can help…”“Who’s Sarah Jane?” Martha asked, feeling quite lost by now.Lit with a beaming assurance, Rose didn’t falter.  “You’ll find out.  Maybe we can also find your brother.  See if he’s alright.  Hole up.  Then… we get to work.”  She turned back, smiling an odd, intent, frightening smile.  “And we burn that asshole to the ground.”*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

TWO:
It had taken far longer than they could have imagined to accomplish that feat, however.  A year, in total; one filled with privation and even starvation, at times.  Hunger and long days, sore feet, anxiety, sometimes outright, existential terror.  The works. Maybe not surprising, given the conditions obtaining, right now, on an exceedingly abused Earth.  It had been an impossibly massive task as well, of course, so maybe it wasn’t shocking that it had been a such a bloody long slog… but here they were.  Back at the starting-gate, waiting to see if their many and varied efforts had bourn any fruit at all.  /Guess we’ll see./Rose wasn’t sure which of their core group had had a tougher year, all told.  Martha had never left the road the entire time, and had to be beyond worn out, by now.  Had given her all, rallying humanity to maintain a hope and optimism she herself didn’t feel most times.  The Doctor remained ancient; even moreso now then when they’d abandoned ship, because the Master delighted in sucking life off of him just to show he was top dog in their exclusive little fraternity. Rose couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be slammed with nine-hundred-plus years of infirmity and physical breakdown, all at once; especially if your brain remained as sharp as ever.  /God./Jack, of course, had been tortured regularly and killed often, just for the entertainment of watching him come back and start all over.  /And I’ve been both on the road and sitting still; slogging and hiding in equal measure.  And watching what’s been done to everyone I love, without bein’ able to help./Frankly, she couldn’t say right now which state had been the worst one to endure.She hadn’t stayed on the road with Martha the entire time.  This for a multitude of reasons; both logical and illogical.  She wasn’t sure which method had proven the most frustrating, even to her own mind.  But they had started that way, together, and it had worked well for a long while.First off, once they had escaped the flying sky-ship, they had looked up Leo Jones.  Used Jack’s wristband tool to check the news, which had told them only that the Jones family had been ‘taken in for questioning’.  “No mention of him, though, so maybe he escaped before they showed up?”“Yeah,” Martha had answered, looking relieved as all hell.  “He’s not as daft as he looks.  God.  Listen to me!  I’m talking about my brother being on the run!”  Rose had laid a commiserating hand on her friend’s arm.  “I’m betting since he knew some Spanish, had the job, he was able to sneak off when they came.  Submerge himself.”“Yeah, probably.”  Good news appeared to have perked her up a bit, though she was still understandably subdued.“Good thing, too,” Rose had added, a plan taking shape in her mind.  “We can use a place to go to ground for a bit, while we build a starter-pack of allies.”So, first, and after a night spent hiding in some old, condemned factory building so the device on Martha’s wrist could recharge (and lucky thing that it was solar), they teleported down to southern Spain to hunt up Leo.  It had taken some doing to find him, now that he had lost himself in the current madness of people dashing around the empty streets, hiding from Toclafane raids, huddling in their houses and debating about whether to sneak out to care for their dead.  But in the end they did manage to find him without tipping anyone off as to his whereabouts; if only because the madness and the over-burdened phone networks had covered up their brief activity.  /Probably also helped that we weren’t in the UK anymore./  It had taken ‘Harold Saxon’ a while to access all the communications in the rest of the world’s nations.  Getting out of Great Britain had been half the battle, that early on.They didn’t dare to use Martha’s phone, of course.  Not now it was on the Archangel Network.  They had to keep it turned off so they wouldn’t be tracked, solely employ Jack’s device instead.  “Every communication will be under surveillance,” Rose had muttered, peeping round a corner in a suburb of Granada.  The secondary population centres had been hit on day two, after the Toclafane had put paid to the largest cities on Earth.  They were thereafter to proceed to each successively lower-level population centre, and within a week, to reduce the human population by that tenth the Master had promised.  Then, under threat of further massacres, the survivors would be put to work; turned into a slave-race.  A worldwide gulag, or something inspired by Nazi Germany, but with literally everyone, whatever their race, creed, nationality, et al, as part of the prison population. /At least he’s equal opportunity./Rose’s phone had remained an exceedingly useful device over the months they had spent in hiding, since it was the only one on Earth aside from UNIT’s special communicators that didn’t use the Master’s pet satellite network.  Of course, it did use the TARDIS, which meant it was a weird, warped thing now… and if he was in his paradox machine soaking up the crimson rays when she made any calls or texted anyone, he might be able to trace it himself.  Find them by vibes or something.  Luckily, it seemed the bastard spent most of his time up on his flash flight deck, amusing himself by abusing people and looking down on the world he had conquered.  /Probably discounts us./ It might contribute to his downfall, that he disregarded humans so completely (a mistake the Doctor had never made even on his worst day), and that he especially overlooked women (which was honestly one of the things that made them polar opposites).  /If he thought we could do anything against him, he’d probably work harder to find us and round us up, since we obviously can’t be as careful as everyone else, or we wouldn’t get anything done./ You had to take risks if you wanted to help people; especially in this situation.  Risks, sacrifices… and endure a lot of fear.  /But it’s that, or sit idle and watch everyone around you suffer./  If Rose’s family was still here…  /And if they were, they’d be up there in chains with Martha’s lot, so might as well behave as if they are./ They had found Leo, eventually, and hid with him for some days at first.  On and off again later, as that incredibly long year dragged on.  He was of course more than willing to help them, though he could only go so far without risking his young family. That lot played safehouse for as long as he could manage it, while the two girls worked to get a resistance cell started in Spain; one that might grow legs and spread to other polities.  And Rose came to really appreciate this young man, who had so much spirit, and looked at even this godawful world with a dogged optimism that was a breath of fresh air when everything seemed dire and immovable.It seemed that the Jones family bred really spectacular humans. Eventually, though, and mostly due to their activities, Leo had had to decline to be their host any longer; and eventually had to remove under cover of darkness to Minorca.  They two had left voluntarily first, before they managed to harm him and his any further.  And it was too bad, too.  Rose had come to really like Leo; and his partner, Joye, who was exactly that.  The baby was adorable as well, of course, and reminded her briefly what it had been like to hold her little brother and watch his tiny features flit between nascent expressions.  /I sure hope she gets the chance to grow up; in a free world, as well.  One with enough for her to eat and the like./Then it was back to the road; to hardship and unending, unleavened anxiety.  But they got along as well as they might; jumping from town to town and smoking, ruined city to city, all across the world.  Helping to start resistance cells, trying to keep up the momentum under the ever-present, psychological weight of the messaging the Master liked to throw at all the world.  ‘Give in, give in’, the pulse seemed to say.  ‘No point fighting it.  Be terrified of stepping out of line’.  It took some doing and some quite fast talking to push people over the edge into action; at least early on.  Like lifting the world at first, honestly.  But once people started to lose loved ones, that trauma tended to break through the psychic bullying.  To motivate the people who didn’t have anything left to lose, or who were too filled with fury to give in to the daily pall of ever-present, grinding misery. Once it got going, it was easier to keep it moving.  /An object in motion tends to stay in motion, and all that./  Helped that they had friends stationed just about everywhere in the world; a human network to counter the one being used against them from above.  One held together by former companions to the Doctor, and their tangentially-related team-members as a scaffold to build from. Sarah Jane had gotten their message in time.  Due to the Doctor’s impromptu warning, and having seen the way the wind was blowing when Saxon’s hand-picked soldiery came to liquidate UNIT (because of course he did, right off the jump), she had gone directly underground, and taken quite a number of other imperative people with her.  Knowing the Doctor was being held by his old enemy, she had immediately spread the word to the rest who were further-flung, as he had hoped she would.  Which in turn meant that anyone from UNIT who wasn’t already on the Valiant had scattered to the four winds to help organise a workable resistance, from the jump. It was a very great loss when they found out that unfortunately, a man everyone called “The Brigadier” was killed in his own home on that first day, while on stand-by in case anyone needed him to come up and treat with the ‘Toclafane’.  But most of the rest of the Doctor’s former associates were warned off in time, and quite a number of them became the skeleton around which a greater structure was built.  People the Doctor had worked with during a couple of earlier regenerations, people who had travelled with him; even people who merely knew of him.  And, through Sarah Jane, also his current companions, as well.  /And none of them would have survived the first week, if we hadn’t managed to get word to her, so thank goodness for that!/“Never lose my number, Rose Tyler,” Sarah Jane had told her once, holding her hands fiercely, before they parted while en route to different missions.  “Never, ever lose it!  When I think…”
“I know.  But don’t.  We can’t manage, that way.”

“You’re right.  But just you phone, any time, and we’ll sort it out!  Whatever’s happening.  You as well, Martha, when it’s needed!  Now, go, before they come!”
Good job she’d gotten the word out, given all the ones up there thinking they’d be in charge of handling diplomatic relations with the so-called Toclafane had also been wiped out first off.  This including, sadly, quite a number of people the Doctor had once worked with in that august facility in the past.  Likely he had had to watch them do it, knowing the Master.They had heard a lot of stories about past iterations of their Doctor during the last year.  Lots of tall tales about the Master, as well, given he’d really started tiffing with the Doctor approximately when he had been exiled from being a functioning Time Lord for a while in the seventies.  He’d been stuck working with UNIT for most of that time, it was said; and per these former companions, had spent years going back and forth with the wanker as he tried plot after insane plot.  /So, nothing new for this lot, I suppose.  Just a bit more over the top./Probably explained why the bastard was going all-out this time, as well, if he’d already failed in however many other incarnations.  “Now we know how long the Doctor was exiled here, I’m actually surprised we didn’t run into some past version of him while we were stuck in the sixties,” Martha pointed out during one clandestine rendezvous.  Per Sarah Jane’s intelligence, there was no wonder he had been so comfortable in that era; and that he had so many contacts left in UNIT. For Rose, the idea of their Doctor—any version of him—being more or less employed by a human-run, anti-alien task force seemed rather ludicrous.  /This lot really likes guns, for one thing.  How much has he changed, that he now prefers so much to work alone, with only a couple people about him, if that?  Was it the War that changed all that for him?/Well, no way to know it till they could win out and then ask him, so might as well get on.They didn’t get to interact personally with a lot of these people.  Most of them, they only spoke to over comms in hush-hush conversations, or by passing coded messages.  Sarah Jane was their point-person, unless they happened to run across any of them in the wild; like Lieutenant Benton, who had been first a Sergeant and then a Warrant Officer when the Doctor had worked with him.  As a ground operative, he had his fingers in a lot of the same pies as they did; setting up resistance cells, spying on the Master’s troop movements, that sort of thing.  Of course, by necessity, they ran across each other more than once, and he had been the hell of a good man to have on your side.They lost him in the Second Battle of St. Petersburg four months in; fighting to bring down the early incarnation of the Russian rocket fields.  The remains of UNIT who were on hand held a memorial for him, under cover of darkness; telling one another tales of his many exploits, both before and after the Doctor.  It was all they could do.  /And it helped.  Gave us more to speak on, as we execute our secret, subterranean task.  Helps a lot with that one, too, that so many of the leadership also have their own Doctor stories./Momentum of any kind was to be exploited for all they could get from it.They also had some limited contact with a woman named Jo Jones, nee Grant, who had apparently been the Doctor’s lab assistant when he’d worked directly with UNIT all those years gone.  She seemed a very compassionate person, though they only got to interact with her the once, while seeking ways to defuse a chemical attack on the Los Angeles resistance.  She had a lovely, encompassing smile, was loyal to the bone, always saw the positives in any situation, always spoke her mind.   She was also brilliant at martial arts, and hi-yahed a bloke right off a building once, when he tried to take her into custody.She died in the attack, and took all her very specialized knowledge of the Master with her.  A terrible blow in many ways; and not just because she had been a valued member of the team.  She had been on hand for much of the Master’s past interactions with Earth and its denizens; was an invaluable resource in that way.  Luckily for all of them, she had passed on a lot of it to her colleagues before that moment, so they still had access to some of her insights.  But she was a massive loss.  They also had to do without Liz Shaw, her predecessor; lost in that same series of attacks.  She died quite painfully while protecting a beleaguered cell in New York, and took all her very intensive knowledge of chemistry and physics with her when her shield membrane failed to stymie the attack.  The New York Resistance built a statue to her in the rubble, out of flotsam and wreckage and graffiti paint.  Three of them were caught and executed for it, and the statue was torn down less than a week later.  No one forgot, though, and wildflowers were left at the site for her for months, while the war dragged on.Rose often wondered if the Master found out about these very specific deaths, and took great joy in telling the Doctor all about how his old companions had died, how ugly some of their deaths were.  She didn’t doubt he would if he could.They got close to a lot of people over that year; lost not a few of them along the way.  Not all of them former friends of the Doctor, of course.  There were your usual disillusioned ex-soldiers, from every military, as a base.  Tougher to trust at first, and very willing to prove themselves, were the soldiers who had deserted from directly serving the Master.  Add to that lot any number of specialists in any number of fields who wanted to get out from under the sonofabitch before he could use them against humanity, or who were too strong-minded to heed the hypnotic messaging, and you had a pretty solid core to start from.But they never got to know anyone very well.  Couldn’t ever stay anywhere that long; and certainly not long enough to be a part of any one group.  Their day-job was to help organize the resistance, and then to get out before they got trapped with any of them; even if it sometimes felt like they were setting up a massive list of fall-guys to take the reprisals they had earned in passing. So many of them fell in the line of duty, and all Rose and Martha could do was escape with their lives, mourn their many losses, and carry on; because they had to.  There was simply no other choice.  Because underneath their overt task, the one the Master likely already suspected of them, lay their real mission.  Spread the word.  Keep hope alive.  Prepare humanity for the second countdown.Sarah Jane was their main contact with the leadership, had her hands in everything her eyes and ears everywhere.  She was an unflagging support, an integral part of the command and communication structures, and her loss would have been an unimaginable one.  Luckily, so far as they knew, she was never located by authorities… though it must be said that no one heard from her near the end; for weeks.  Which likely meant either she had been found and had to go to ground, or she had in fact been sussed out and snatched up.  Rose desperately hoped it was the former, both for her dear friend and mentor’s sake, and because it would kill the Doctor to see her abused by the Master before he ended her life.  /He’d do it right in front of him, too, just to get a reaction out of him!/They wouldn’t have gotten far without her, either way.  Her years of experience and her myriad connexions were unbelievably helpful in getting this thing moving, from the very start.  She had been the literal tip of the pyramid that had built into an entire labyrinthine structure; contacting everyone, passing on news in time to save lives, and generally being brilliant.  She was exactly the one for it, as well; knew literally hundreds of people in the world who in turn knew others, who knew still others.  A vast network of the knowledgeable, the skilled, and the connected, who could aid in their impossibly vast endeavour.  All of them were, of course, fully dedicated, trained, well-versed in espionage… and well-placed on every continent.  All of them played an integral role in both the surface and sub-surface missions; fighting the Master and all his works… and spreading the gospel of the Doctor. They also worked a great deal with what few people were left from Jack’s version of Torchwood who had escaped the purge on day two.  Together with the UNIT bunch,  that lot had given the whole thing a place to start.  Two people specifically, a woman called Gwen Cooper and a man called Ianto Jones (and what was it with Joneses in this thing?), did the hell of a lot to construct a workable system around the coalescing spheres of underground influence.  Once that was done, they slowly added in anyone who was strong-minded, aware of the possibilities, and too cagey to give into the subliminals.  /The sorts who aren’t fooled by psychic paper, either./  Essentially, they created a spy corps.  Like a set of internal shock-troops, able to cover a lot of ground and hopefully oppose the faithful disciples reportedly growing up around the Master; polar opposites to the idiots who somehow thought he was the second coming or some bloody thing. “I wish I knew why they worship him like that!” Rose had announced in disgust at one point.  “Between that wife of his and that lot, I just don’t know!”  /He’s down here causing endless misery and destroying everythin’, and they’re up there puffing up his ego and lauding him like he’s the Pope!/“Doesn’t make any sense to me, either, if it helps any,” Martha had told her grimly.  “I might have my problems with the Doctor’s more recent choices, but put him up against that bellend, and…”  She’d trailed off in such a way as to leave no doubt of her inclinations.She’d still been struggling a bit with her faith, early on.  It had taken a lot of wild storytelling to get her back on board.  Which was another good thing about palling around with so many other people who knew the Doctor well.  /There’re only so many stories you can listen to about him pulling it out at the last minute before you simply have to believe!/  Rose had no issues with belief, of course, but on down days it had still helped to hear of so many amazing things her Doctor had done in other lives, to save worlds and make things measurably better across time.  The referred pride of it was bracing.  /And only so many stories about the Master you can hear before you know that he might do just about anything, so you have to be wary.  Never sleep./Sarah Jane often decried that she didn’t know as much as others did about this odd relationship between the Doctor and the Master.  “I didn’t meet him,” she had informed Rose and Martha sadly, on the day of their first clandestine rendezvous.  “But I knew of him.  The Doctor mentioned him quite a number of times.  Once in a while when some odd mystery would come up, he would wonder out loud whether it was the Master up to his old tricks.”She had a point, and Rose had briefly wondered if this business with the Master was ultimately the reason the stars were going out.  Especially once the bastard started building a massive space-invasion fleet.  But given they had no way of knowing, they simply had to function off of what they currently knew.  Which was a lot more, now, given the kindly offices of Sarah Jane’s broad group of world-saving acquaintances.  Martha, by the way, had seemed a bit overwhelmed after meeting their first former companion.  “She saw the Loch Ness Monster?” she’d demanded, amazed.“I know, huh,” Rose had answered easily.  “She was with him for years.  I can only imagine the things she’s seen.”“Right?”   Working with someone like the legendary Sarah Jane Smith was fairly inspiring for people who knew exactly what it was like to do what they had all done; and who therefore knew what it took to have survived that long at the Doctor’s side.A bit tougher on her friend when she met this Gwen and Ianto pairing from Torchwood.  Given Jack’s proclivities, it was a bit of an awkward scenario… but not for long, really.  The way everyone there seemed to approach things was to admit that they were all either emotionally or physically involved with their leader (sometimes both), and that in no way should any such dalliances lead to ill feelings. Martha got a quick primer on that convoluted mess within the first day, and after that, she seemed to reach a new composure about the situation.  /Because let’s be real.  Jack’s a generous soul.  She knew it from the start, and she still went on with it.  More’n enough of him to go around, too, most days.  Anyway, it’s not like any of them have him right now to argue over who gets first claim.  And he’d hate it if they did./ Honestly, given his vulnerable position up on the Valiant, how many lovers Jack had was not exactly imperative math.  What was, was coordinating with anyone who had the remotest idea of how to make this resistance effort a success, against all odds.What it amounted to, mostly, had been months of fighting the man in small ways, all while watching the devastation spread inexorably outward.  From work-camps and massive, continent-wide ship-building factories going up, from suffering and grief and a grinding poverty that struck everyone from rich to poor, to fleeting moments of human connexion that heartened the will and salved the soul.  Moments spent in the low light of candles in workers’ ghettos, telling inspiring, impossible stories to lighten the heart and unburden the soul.  Huddling in flats full of dozens of people, crammed in cheek-by-jowl, singing low together to keep the spirits up without heating or lights, as all power was diverted to the Master’s attempts to build a fleet with which to conquer the cosmos, with nothing left for his myriad, starving workforce.  Exchanges of necessities by clandestine means, as people sought any means necessary to survive and to care for one another.Black markets sprang up, of course; like dark growths in well-fertilised soil.  Long roads marched ever on.  Dashed hopes, everywhere.  Endless, covert assemblies made up of furious, devastated people with nothing left to lose.  People like Mickey’s group back on Dad’s world, but worldwide.  A revolving cast of characters; all speaking different languages, all stuck in slightly different situations depending on the resources in each region, but all with one common goal.  Fight back; make gains, or at least regain some dignity in death.  Grim people, lost people, people who had no-one left to care for.  People fighting for whole buildings full of refugees.  To keep makeshift hospitals running, and to keep people alive when there was less medical technology left than they’d had in Latimer’s war.  (Those depressing places had really worn at Martha’s healer’s soul.)So many interesting humans populated their journeyings.  Smugglers, grifters, con-men, and other resourceful sorts.  Ex-soldiers of all stripes, tech-heads with specialised skills, woodcraft experts, firearms enthusiasts.  People who knew how to preserve foods the old-fashioned way, and other survivor-types.  People with grudges against the establishment, and people utterly devoted to bringing the old ways back, joining hands.  People with skills at fiber-crafts, people creating underground distribution systems.  /Just humans, doing what he always said we do best.  Fighting on.  Surviving.  Seeing to it that we won’t go under without a fight./And by it; by keeping the faith?  They made him proud.  Or, so Rose hoped, as she struggled on through the days with no food.  Through the never-ending cold.  Through the yearlong lack of caffeine, through the endless marches and the close calls, the running afoot to hide with smelly people who rivaled the ones at the end of the universe.  Through the terror and the exhaustion and the days when there seemed to be too little remaining hope to sustain them. At first, she thought Martha mostly clung to the resilience of humanity as her guiding light, her faith in the Doctor having been so rattled by the paradox.  But it seemed that eventually, and with repetition, Rose’s recurrent calls to action on her man’s behalf, and their many stories of exactly how he’d pulled it out every time, without fail, and with only a little help—and maybe more importantly, the fact that he could foresee things, knew things they never could—and she slowly regained her trust, her belief. So then, after about six-and-a-half months, when Rose thought she had enough of it back to go on, and enough help from enough people in the know, she had sat back and proposed her newest plot. They had spent the last two days running hard, after having narrowly escaped a trap set for them in approximately Ukraine.  It had been the third time in as many weeks that the Master had nearly flushed them out and recaptured them.  /We simply don’t have enough information about what his next move will be, or whether he’s found us again!/ It was impetus enough.  “Here’s the thing,” she’d begun that night, while sitting round the tiny, shielded fire they had risked building to warm them inside the abandoned building outside… where were they, by then?  Somewhere in Mongolia?  Northern China?  “At some point, I’m going to have to leave this up to you.  Now we’ve begun our own network, the rest is on you; to keep it charged.  Keep everybody’s eyes on the prize.  We have to make sure it’s all ready, the network is primed… but we also need someone inside.” That had been the biggest weakness in their efforts.  Not knowing details of when troops might be moving against which enclaves, that sort of thing.  Whether the Master knew where they were that day and was sending a strike-force.  And they both knew very well by now, in intimate detail, how necessary it was to build and maintain that sort of infrastructure in place between themselves and the enemy. /Or, rather, between us and our people stuck upstairs.  When they can help us at all, which isn’t possible most of the time, given they’re all currently subjugated./  “Not just Jack, with whatever the hell they’re doing to him that week, or your family…”  The latter had gotten word out, intermittently, through undependable networks of rebellions soldiers who didn’t want to have to shoot their own kind.  Of conditions on the ship, troop dispositions, that sort of thing.  Given that Martha’s people had been forced into servitude up there, as punishment for her actions down on the surface, they had the right sort of access to know what might be coming. Of course, such subjugation was disgusting; as was learning that Jack was, as expected, a mere plaything.  Awful as that the Doctor was being kept on the bridge; forced to watch the unfolding devastation with his pet species while he could do nothing to help them.  /All so the Master can wreck his soul and feel superior./  “The thing is, they’re all stuck up there, can’t move easily under his eye.  And the soldiers… we can’t count on them anymore, now that he’s shut down the commando pipeline.”  Recent narrow escapes had only confirmed that truth.  The Royal Commandoes had mostly been cast aside, now that the Master had winnowed through the lot to create an elite squad that now served as his personal, fanatical guard.  “Our contacts either get found out and executed, or give in.” It was but one of the many regrets that could be heaped on their heads.  Far too many people they had tapped and trusted within that very specific and necessary task—every one of their hand-picked liaisons—had eventually been discovered and court-martialed.  Every one of them had ultimately been sentenced to death.  By now it was more or less a question of mortality for them to help in any way; even if it was merely to pass on that troops were being recycled for leaves or whatever it was. That avenue had been fairly well shut down; and it was one they needed to re-open posthaste!  There had been too many close calls, too many times they had barely evaded capture.  “We need a solid communication structure between the Valiant and everyone on the ground down here… and I’m making that me.  Since I can use my phone, here, and no-one else can.”  It was the most logical solution.  /Not that that’s the only reason, but…  Well.  She’ll know the other, without my havin’ to say it./ Martha of course gaped at her, likely stunned by this unorthodox proposition.  “But, without your own transport, how will you get back and forth?  You’ll just be caught, end up back where we started!”She had a point; and it was one Rose had considered for a long time, now.  But the fact was… it didn’t matter.  /What happens to me doesn’t matter.  What matters is we pull this out; no matter what we have to sacrifice.  Because everyone and everything depends on this; and too many fantastic people have died for it for us to let it fall apart now!/  “I know.  That is a problem.  I wish we could cobble together another one on the model of Jack’s…”  /But we don’t have the time or the parts./  Torchwood might have had them, but the Master had raided them the day after the first worldwide assault.  As former Defence Minister, he had well known that they would oppose him, had deleted them as a matter of course. Jack was probably dealing with a lot of grief and guilt over that set of executions.  They had tried to get him word that at least two of his people had survived the coup, but they had no way to know if he’d gotten the uplifting message. Anyway, without the right tech, there was no way in hell they could rebuild even a teleport circuit, much less anything else that wrist-band could do.  /At best, we’ll manage to use it as a way to communicate between Martha and my phone, since neither of them use the Archangel Network./  Though, Jack’s wristband probably did incorporate some sort of signal from Torchwood, which would be another chink in their defences.  /Anyway, since I intend to stay in one area…  “But you’ll need it more.  You’re always jumping from place to place, and you’ll need it to go on gettin’ out of jams.”  Only having one teleport had been the main reason they had not yet separated to try some sort of divide-and-conquer motif, but reversed.  /Otherwise, we could’ve worked toward each other from opposite sides of the world.  Do it in half the time.  But we’d still be at the mercy of the countdown, so why bother?  Better to work at it together; make it stronger./ And if they had to separate, better that they did so now, so that at least one of them might make it out of this mess intact!“But then, how…”  Martha trailed off, sounding baffled as to what Rose might have planned to make this work./How indeed./  “I’ll just have to sneak on board troop transports or something.  Rely on the key to keep me out of sight, now they’re not looking for us so close-to anymore.  Or I can hitch rides on the ships with trading licences or whatever.”  /Unlikely to work more than a couple of times, if that, now so many of ‘em are the Chosen, the disciples hand-picked to serve his worship./  It would have been far easier once upon a time, only a few months in, hiding amongst people left over from the old system.  By now, though, even the average sailors doing grunt-work on the Valiant might have loyalists among them. /Dangerous proposition, staying out of everyone’s sight for months; but it is what it is.  We can’t go on like this down here; constantly running, always just one step ahead of the executioner./  By this stage, the Master had definitely been forced to take them a bit more seriously than he had at first.  Lately, he had been making it his personal mission to catch them and bring them before the Doctor for some sort of kangaroo-court mock-trial; likely before executing them right in front of him, or whatever he came up with that week to punish them for being annoyingly successful.  /We badly need an inside man!  It’s more than just me wantin’ to be back close to him!/ Knowing it, Rose managed a fatalistic sort of shrug.  “Who knows?  Maybe I can get close enough to get the bastard.”  The Master’s public appearances were all done by camera; had been from the start.  All from the ship, so he wouldn’t get shot or something, by some desperate resistance operative hiding in a work-crew or what-have-you.  Knowing it—knowing that off the Valiant, most people, amazingly enough, didn’t worship him—he stayed out of reach; untouchable.  /Which means in the end we have to get back up there to fight him./ She likely couldn’t hide on there for months on end, would have to coordinate below…  /But I can for big chunks of it.  Use the key to hide m’self, coordinate with our people below.  Unless he’s cut off the shuttles by now./  He might have done, given it was a weakness in his protective bubble.  /And if he has… I’ll manage, somehow./  “Separate, we can do more than we have even together, down here.  And we both know we’ve been easier to spot, together.”  Two good-looking, capable women with a lot of information in their back pockets, travelling together and rabble-rousing at each stop?  /Pretty noticeable.  Maybe one of us alone can manage a bit more stealth./As they were, they were a bit of a liability to their allies.  While the various resistance groups had done their best to protect their roving cheer-leaders, taking them under their wings every time they came to town, they had often paid dearly for such patronage.  /We’re a disadvantage to them as a pair.  One is easier to cover up than the both of us./  “It’ll be better for the fighters if they only have to hide one of us.  Much easier to protect than two.  They’ll keep it up for you… and think about it.  We’ve been taking a big risk, travelling together.  If they take only one of us, there’s still one left to continue the work.  But if we’re together and they get us both, it’s over.”Martha looked down into her hands, expression resigned.  “It’s meant a lot, is all.  Having you with me.  Not being alone in this.  Having companionship on the road.  Not sure I can do this on my own.”Alright, that wouldn’t do.  Not at all.  /She needs to believe in herself, too, or this won’t work!/  “You can do this, Martha Jones.  Your name is known in these groups.  Everyone respects you.  I respect you, and so do Jack and Sarah Jane and the Doctor!”  She might not believe it just yet, but she should.  She’d earned her laurels, after all she’d done.  “You’ve saved lives everywhere you went, as a doctor…”  Kids needing shots, tourniquets, bleed-outs from weapons-fire, vitamin deficiencies, insulin…  Just having the know-how to diagnose!  “And, you’re a soldier, whether you believe it or not.  Not to mention the brains in your head.  I admire you no end.  You know that, right?”Martha nodded slowly, and sucked in a hard, steeling breath.  “I know you do; and I appreciate it.  It’s just…  I’ve felt… second best for so long, that it’s tough to believe I can accomplish something like this alone, without you to hand.”/No, don’t do that./  “Well, that’s just nonsense!” Rose declaimed staunchly.  “Everything you’ve done so far, you’ve done because you’re capable.  You’d have done all of it with or without me, because you have the stuff.”  In the time they’d had together, this last half-year, they’d talked about their separate adventures, and by it Rose had learned that Martha had done the hell of a lot with the Doctor before she’d gotten there to help them.  /Some things I might have muffed badly, if you weren’t there!  You’ve got this, girl!/  “Believe it.  Don’t do the Master’s work for him!” This last had Martha’s eyes jerking up to stare at her, filled with a new fire.  “That’s right,” Rose approved.  “That’s the spirit.  And we all know he discounts women.  That’s one thing he has in common with when he was Yana.  So he won’t expect it.  From either of us.”  Rose felt a tiny, satisfied smile touch her lips.  “Think of how much you can accomplish, all you can do to prove him wrong; with all the odds against you, because he doesn’t take either of us seriously!”“Yeah, he sure didn’t appreciate poor Chantho.”  Blowing out a breath, Martha nodded like she was firming up her resolve.  “But he won’t discount you.  He’s actually scared of you, you know.”Rose tried to wave it off.  “Only because he heard that I absorbed the Time Vortex.”  /Since he took one look into it and turned into a psychopath, and somehow I didn’t.  Didn’t run either, when I’m a lowly human.  “I think he’s just curious; but, like, morbidly.  Like a scientist who wants to dissect someone’s brain to see what makes ‘em tick.”“Exactly.  So, be careful.  Please.”  Martha pressed her lips together, looked away, her eyes shining.  “I can’t lose another friend.” Her warning was a fair one.  They had already lost so many people they admired; to the cause, or to sheer mistreatment and malnutrition.  From the lack of required medications, or from balls-out, risky behaviour.  To suicides, to depression, to people simply giving up. /But not me.  As long as I have him to save, I’m on it./  “Keeping our heads up is sometimes all we can do.  And, to offer hope to others.  To show that we can all do something, no matter how small, and that put together, all of it will become something greater.”“But don’t you have more to do, here?” Martha tried, like a last-ditch effort.  “More to do with this?  Anyway, he didn’t want that bellend to use you against him.  There was a reason we left!”Rose nodded solemnly, because that was, of course, one very good point against her plan.  “He didn’t want him to use either of us against him!” she answered staunchly.  /You were part of that, too!/ “I suppose,” Martha conceded finally.  “I just…”“I know.”  Rose leaned forward to lay an encouraging hand on her friend’s knee.  “But think of it this way.  He can’t use either of us against him if he can’t find us.  And for that to be the case, we have to find a way to keep tabs on his next moves.”  /Otherwise, one of these days he’ll get lucky.  Grab both of us; and then where will we be?/  It went without saying that the bastard couldn’t capture them till the end; or everything they had endured till now would be rendered pointless.  “Anyway, somehow I can’t imagine him out there looking for me himself.  He’s too arrogant to do his own dirty-work.  Which means the perception key will work against the rest of his people, no matter how well-trained or fanatic they are.” Rose looked away, out in to the gloom of another freezing night.  /Won’t be much better up in that can, but I’ll do./  “All I can contribute, I can do from up there.”  /I don’t need the glory or the reverence.  You can have it.  You deserve it.  And you’ll save us all with it./ Yes, she believed in the altered mission she was proposing.  But more than that, the yearning within her was like an endless ache.  She had survived long enough with that ever-present anguish back on her father’s world to entertain it for even one day longer, if there was any meaning in her taking on another duty.  /It’s enough!  I only need one person’s reverence, and I had it.  And by God, I will save him with it!/  “And don’t forget,” she reminded her worried compatriot.  “I still have the stasis-generator.”  That bitty device had helped them both no end over the last six months; especially to effect last-minute escapes when they or their allies had been caught out.  /Lucky I still had it in my pocket from back when we took your family to Spain./  She’d never gotten round to removing it, had just happened to be wearing the same kit on the day everything had fallen to bits.  /And thank goodness for it!/Rose laid a hand on her friend’s still, limp fingers.  “Listen, Martha; this is your opportunity; to learn to believe in yourself.  I did what I needed to do, here; got you in touch with the others.  Now you’re one of ‘em; a leader, and it’s my turn to be the support structure, while you have your chance to shine.”  She felt that; as surely as she knew the Doctor sometimes just knew things.  “So, go on.  I’ve had my moment in the sun, against the Daleks, in the future.  This is yours.  I don’t want the glory, or the credit.  I just want to be close to him, in case he needs me.”  Off her friend’s uncertain nodding, “Anyway, let’s be real about it.  I’m not really helping you, here, when it comes to a successful mission.  You can tell these uplifting stories without my input…”“Dunno about that,” Martha muttered.  “You’ve had more adventures with him than I have.  Been more places, too.”“Maybe.  But you’ve also seen him pull it out when things seemed completely dire.  You know he can do it again.  Meanwhile, if I’m up there acting the distraction…”  She trailed off, because they both knew it was true.  Once he found out she was scampering about inside his massive maze of a ship, the Master would not be able to let it go.  She could be a thorn in his side from upstairs; hopefully one annoying enough to pull his attention in two separate directions.  /Hopefully enough to distract him from chasing Martha about./If they were exceedingly lucky, maybe he might focus more on trying to find and eliminate her than on what Martha Jones was doing down here.  /Since I doubt he believes anyone can really challenge him from below./  “He’ll learn to regret discounting you!  I know it!”Martha’s worried expression briefly slipped to something lovely and full of blazing hope.  After a second, though, it faded to the logical, and she nodded acceptance of this last point.  “It might work.”  But, she kept her eyes locked on the floor of the dilapidated structure, as well; like she was afraid to betray her reaction if she met Rose’s determined gaze.  “I know you’re not trying to abandon me…  I know you’re doing this because you feel I can handle it, and you think it’ll help.  And…”  As if abruptly giving in, she gave over trying to talk Rose out of this anymore.  After all, they both knew why she was going.  “I know why you have to get back.  You’ve been working all the time to find a way to get back to him.  You never intended to leave again; no more than I intended to be stuck in time again.”  Rose winced at this last, because it was true.  As luck went, Martha had had a lot of it turn against her during her tenure.  /Stuck in 1913, in 1969… and now in this hell.  Not all fun and games, for her.  And I know how that feels.  I was nearly stuck forever back home while he fought the Daleks on the GameStation.  Was nearly trapped on that bloody ship with the clockwork people scavenging us for parts.  On the edge of a black hole, then Dad’s world…/  Yeah, they had both faced a few rough choices.  /But hers have been pretty long-lasting, and not very comfortable in any of ‘em./  No wonder the pace of it was finally wearing a bit on Martha Jones. /After a while, you end up with a choice.  Stay, and stick right to his side, or quit.  Or, you lose that choice in moments like this, and have to consider that the next time./  She had her doubts that Martha Jones would choose to remain with the Doctor, even if they ever fixed this insane mess.  She’d been through enough.  It showed in her eyes.  /But as for me…/  Rose felt her eyes rising involuntarily to the skies above.  “What you said is true; about the Master.  In a way, he’s been going after me this whole time.  If you don’t have me about, you can get away with more.”  Coming back to the present, Rose seized her hand, held it tight.  “I can be your invisible shadow.”  /You can take all the credit.  I honestly don’t need it./  Having long accepted that sometimes this life came with enormous sacrifice, she wasn’t about to complain about it now.  /Just gotta keep my head down and do the job of it!  And to do that, I need to be close to the centre of it, before it all collapses in on me!/Martha snorted wryly.  “Yeah, I guess that’ll work.  Maybe I can do more on my own; even if it’s counter-intuitive.”/Maybe without me about, you can finally realise you don’t need me to pull this off!/  “Believe it.  Martha, you have to make this happen.  I will speak when I can, but I have to keep my head down.  If he catches me…”  She didn’t have to finish the sentence.  They both knew what the bastard had threatened to do to her by way of manhandling her importance to the Doctor for personal gain.  “You can stay invisible.  I can’t.”Martha looked away again, into the bare night.  “Yeah, I’m good at that.  Being invisible to Time Lords.”/Fuck; that won’t do at all./  “Stop it.  Listen.  Use your superpower.  Think of it.  We still have these.”  She held up the key again.  “I’ll use it to do my best to help him from there; and to help keep your family safe, as well.  I promise!  You’ll go on doing what you’re doing so well down here… and maybe, if everything goes exactly right, we’ll meet in the middle at the end…”  She squeezed the hand she held, tightly and with conviction.  “…And both get to watch him fry for it!”Their task set, Martha flat refused to let her walk back to Europe.  “I’ll teleport you up to the Valiant.  You hide immediately.  I’ll leave before they can track me; head to the next stop on the list.”  Said stop was in the shipyards of India.  They had both been looking forward to it because English was so prevalent there. “What if they catch you, though?”  /He can’t regain both of us!  That’s half the reason I’m goin’!/ It was one thing to risk herself; entirely another to pull Martha into a trap at her side.Martha wouldn’t be shaken, though.  “Just let me help.”They argued a bit more about it, but in the end they agreed that their epic partnership deserved a last hurrah.  Anyway, with the teleport on hand, Martha could escape quickly enough if they were tracked to the bowels of the Valiant. Aware that tomorrow was going to be pell-mell and insane, they settled in for what might even count as a good night’s sleep; huddled together for warmth as they commonly managed it these days.  Sharing the think blanket they had managed to scrounge in Latvia—or was it Estonia?—Rose did her best to quiet her mind, her maddening anticipation so that she could compose herself to take advantage of the opportunity.  /Who knows when I’ll get another!/She would have to grow eyes on the back of her head, up there.  Not that she hadn’t sprouted them already, down here; but at least it had been relatively easy to find a place to sneak away for some rest whilst on the road.  /Likely not as dependable, up there./In the morning, they did some fiddling with the wrist-band in an attempt to forge a link between it and Rose’s phone.  If they could keep up a narrow but open line of communication between them—one that absolutely didn’t touch the Archangel Network—then they might be able to keep one another abreast of things; or even to pass warnings about raids and the like.  In the past, all they had managed was about three kilometers’ distance.  /We’ll need the hell of a lot more if we’re to make it work between us now!/In the end, between what Jack had told Martha about the thing back before everything went to hell, and the experience Rose had had in that other dimension, cobbling together various alien tech to create a bridge back home, they got it to work, finally.  It was a bit undependable, but it was better than nothing.  “I just wish this wasn’t necessary,” Martha murmured sadly as she strapped the device back to her wrist and prepped for departure.  “I just wish…”Rose was well-aware what she wished.  “He’ll make it up to you, Martha,” she insisted firmly.  “He will fix it.  I promise you.  He’s never failed when it came down to it.”“Yeah, well…  I still don’t know how you don’t see what’s happening now as a failure.”Rose sighed heavily, because there was definitely merit to that last.  “Yeah.  There have been casualties… but you know how he hates those.  He’ll try to take it back if he can… but seriously.  Even with half of Earth destroyed when the Daleks invaded the GameStation, he pulled it out, so…”“That was you,” Martha interrupted sharply./I mean, us as a team.  But I see your point./  “Well, alright; he can do it if we’re there to help him.  And he needs the both of us.”  She attempted an encouraging smile.  “Divide so we can conquer.  An inside person and an outside one.”Martha frowned, scanning the poisonous-yellow, lowering clouds.  No way to tell if they were weather, or merely the pall of smog that hung everywhere nowadays, as the Master’s factories went full-tilt, swiftly destroying the environment around them.  “I’m worried that, because I’m ambivalent…  What if I can’t convince anybody without you?  Can I come up with something to really sell it, without your direct memories to share?  Of the times he’s won, and saved everyone?”Rose pulled a sour face.  “Alright, but listen.  You have adventures to share, too.  You saved the world from who knows how many things.  Witches, your own Daleks…”Martha shrugged.  “I suppose that trip to Manhattan did give me a primer on how to build a resistance movement.  And he did save us that time.”  She tried a tremulous smile.  “With help.”/Exactly./  “So, we give him that help.”Martha’s expression slid into a slow frown.  “I can’t help but remember what he did there, to help the Daleks change.  I wonder…”/Interesting./  “What do you wonder?” Rose urged, curious where this was going.“Well…  Maybe I can tell everyone I’m making a weapon of some sort.  Some sort of anti-alien device that kills Time Lords.  Something that was, I dunno; placed in parts around the world by UNIT or whoever; so that, if it’s put together, it’ll be deadly to him.  Give people hope.”/See?  Different approaches!/  “I wouldn’t have thought of that; not in a million years!  See?  Your contributions are gonna pull this thing out.  I’m sure of it.”Martha blushed, the alteration in skin tone scarcely noticeable in the low light.  “I just know what it’s like to need some convincing to believe we can win.  Something solid and real; something more than stories.  And if it would help me, it’ll help others.  Only wish I could believe it m’self.”  A faint, wistful smile.  “You don’t think of these things because your faith in him is unshakeable, but a lot of people down here don’t know him; only know what the Master’s shown them.  We can talk till we’re blue in the face about the Christmas Star and the rest, or whatever Sarah Jane’s seen over the years; but without something concrete to hang their hopes on…”Rose didn’t like to admit it, but not everyone could run forever as she herself did, on conviction alone.  “That’s a great idea, honestly.  Anything to keep it going, keep the faith; keep people believing…”“Keep myself believing, rather.”Rose sighed, aware that it was going to take some doing to get Martha back to the place where she had full credence again.  /She’s gone from hero-worshipping him to finding out he actually has clay feet, all in the same moment.  That’s a tough one to manage./ Too many humans started out holding the Doctor on a huge pedestal.  /The harder the fall, that way./  Rose, who knew him inside and out, was well-aware of what he could and couldn’t do.  She believed not because she held him above her, but because she knew that clay feet or no, he would always come up with something.  /Sometimes completely off the cuff and insane, but…/  “Listen.”  She caught Martha’s sleeve.  “Before we go…  In case we lose touch, you want to set up a schedule?”Martha gave the idea due consideration.  “Might be tough for you to keep one.”“Well, if I miss you, you’ll know I was caught, or prevented somehow…”“Don’t say that!”  Shaking her head, Martha pressed her lips into a thin, hard line.  “Maybe I can arrange to meet you, transport you when you need to come down.”/Too risky.  Can’t be seen together, after this./  “Too many ripples.  I’ve no doubt he can track the displacement and find us.  You have to stay away from the Valiant.  I’ll find you whenever I can.”Martha didn’t at all like it, but she had to accede.  It was simply too complicated to plan ahead when it came to so many variables.She did risk the one transport, though; to bring Rose up to the Valiant’s labyrinthine lower decks.  They phased into some deep, dank hold, lit only sparingly with fluorescents far above an echoing, cavernous space.  All round them, large objects and massive metal crates were belted down with nylon strapping, some of them covered with voluminous drop-cloths.  /Killing machines, most like./  “Alright; I’m set.  Get out, before they come down and find you!” Martha’s lips trembled as she went in for a spontaneous but exceedingly heartfelt and intense hug.  “Be careful, please.  And stay alive!”“And you.”  Rose allowed herself to cling, briefly, hold hard.  She had become so close to Martha Jones by this point that she absolutely felt as if she had a sister.  She had never felt about anyone the way she felt about this one amazing person; not even with Shareen.  /Different when you’ve been through a few life-and-death scenarios with someone, I reckon./She was going to miss it like hell, having someone to talk to who got it.  /Or, anyone really.  Likely go barmy, start talkin’ to m’self, before the end.  It didn’t help that neither of them knew how this would end, or even if they might ever see one another again.  It made the parting all the more poignant.  /But at least in this case, there’s a chance.  Same dimension and all./  “You stay safe, down there.  It’s all on you, now.”Martha snorted darkly.  “Thanks for the pep-talk.”  By the thickness in her voice, she was crying and fighting to hide it, here in the gloom of this godawful place.  “I know…you were always going to go back.  Be at his side.  I just sort of wished it would all be done before you had to leave.”Rose struggled to fight off her own tears, knowing she’d have to be on top of her game from here on out.  /Not blinded and sniffling loudly in case someone finds me./  “Yeah.  It’s what I do.  But I’m glad we could help each other while we could.  And I promise; I’ll keep on helping you as best I can from up here.”“I know.  I hope… I can complete what we started.  I really…  I hope I don’t let any of you down.”“You won’t.”  Pulling back, Rose looked fully into her friend’s damp eyes.  “You’ve got this, Martha Jones.”Off somewhere far above them, Rose thought she caught the edges of what sounded like soldiers shouting, and the tramp of booted feet.  “Go.  Do what you have to do to survive.”Impatiently dashing tears from her eyes with the edge of one hand, Martha nodded.  “You, too.”  And, touching her wrist, she vanished./I will./ Alone now, Rose lifted her gaze to the decking above her.  /First step in that is findin’ a place to hide./*   *   *

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THREE:
Six months on her own, playing at resistance leader and pseudo-commando.  No company save when she was spending a night under tarpaulins or something, amidst the resistance in an empty ruin, or in some overcrowded ghetto.  Too many times she’d had to rely on the key around her neck; till the symbolism of it floated stark and intense in her mind’s eye.  ‘If I’m invisible to them’ it said, ‘if they underestimate me, then that’s good.  That’s my superpower.’  /And the more I get away with down here that sticks it to that bastard, the more likely he is to be distracted away from harming them up there.  Jack, Rose, my family… even the Doctor./Well, maybe not the Doctor.  That Master prat would harm him as much as possible just for the entertainment of it.  Whatever their past relationship, it was clearly a convoluted one.Thing was, Martha had thought without Rose at her side that she would fall apart, doing all this alone.  For one, it didn’t take much humility to acknowledge what Rose had contributed at the start to get the ball rolling, that she couldn’t have; or at least, not as swiftly.  /Not till the others realised I was one of them, and got in touch.  Might’ve taken months./  Which in turn meant that without Rose, they would not be connected with all these people, at least at first.But now she was well-versed and deeply-embedded in their Companions Network, and it was well able to counter the Master’s bullshittery.  Which meant maybe she could, in fact, carry on alone; and more than that, to be effective at it!She had thought she needed Rose’s help from the day she had met the other woman, back in 1913; unsure how she might have managed without that veteran’s assistance.  /But… I haven’t been caught.  More than that, I’ve continued to succeed!/ /Maybe I do have what it takes, after all!/In fact, maybe she didn’t even need the Doctor to recognise her worth to be great.  /Not if I know it for myself.  Because I’m down here accomplishing something even Rose can’t!/All around her, lately, as she passed from unit to unit, city to burnt-out city, she heard them say it.  Heard the gossip spreading.  “Martha Jones.  They say she’s going to save the world.”  And while she knew for a fact that the thing they were all depending on to be their salvation, this nonsense with the gun, was utter horseshit, she also found it uplifting as all hell to have them put all that on her name and her name alone.  Rose had been instrumental, of course, in helping to start up this underground scaffold… but this was a bunch who were quite used to putting aside the memories of the people lost along the way so that they could carry on in their names.  Now that Rose was no longer travelling along with her, no one mentioned her even in the past-tense.  Assuming she was lost to them for good, they just got on with what needed to be done; with Martha at their sides./I’m the only one knows what she’s up to, up there.  I can hold onto that; cling to it to lift my spirits whenever we can interact.  But this part, down here?  I’ve made it mine!/  She would never have believed it half a year ago; but now?  /She was right.  I can do it!  Can push back against this bloody awful psychic field he’s putting off, and rouse everyone back to some optimism!/To say that she had surprised herself was an understatement.  /I never knew I had it in me.  Truly!  And she was right, in the end, about divide-and-conquer./  Rose, from her lofty perch high above them all, had managed to overhear no less than three plots to capture yours truly, or to foil some resistance plan or other.  Had successfully passed on timely warnings each one of those times, thus saving any number of lives.  /And me from capture.  So.  Group effort, wherever each segment of the group might be stationed./Shivering in the chill of the foggy Channel at night, Martha crouched in the bows of the small boat, eyes seeking the familiar, chalky shores of her homeland.  She hadn’t been stationed there in three-hundred and sixty-five days, as of tomorrow.  /Hell of a thing.  Never been abroad that long in my life!/  Her family had once spent a week in Prague, when she was young; most of it spent playing the leader and dodging family warfare with her siblings; wandering the lovely old streets of that gorgeous city while her parents fought endlessly in the midst of their slow, interminable divorce.  Another time, they had gone to South Africa, to visit her father’s grandparents, who hadn’t made the move to London when her own grandparents had made the leap, back in the late seventies.  Cape Town had been equally gorgeous, and the trip had been amazing (they had also gone to Jo’burg).  Lots of history, and in the late nineties, with the country still recovering from Apartheid, it had been pretty intense as well.  She had even picked up not a little Sotho along the way, though her brain had since conveniently dumped most of it in favour of medical information.  But beyond that…  /Maybe a month, tops, I’ve spent away from home, before now.  And look at me!  Confirmed world-traveller!/Martha sat tight as the boat took her in to shore.  Eyes wide for a glimpse of the telltale line of frothy surf, she scarcely noticed the cold, save as a bit of low-grade background noise.  Not after a year spent frigid and on the move; and not after six months without even Rose’s warmth at her back.  It had been a lonely road for half of it, sure, though likely it had been the same for her, up there.  Missed the warmth, too, of their whispered conferences; the fears, hopes and dreams they had shared in that first half a year.  She had certainly adopted Rose, in her own way; the only child, hungry for such interactions.  /I know how to be a sister, for one.  She had to feel her way.  But it’s there, now.//The rest of it, though?  Don’t think we’ll get it back, either, now everything’s changed so much./  Nothing would likely ever be the same, and time Martha resigned herself to that fact.  /Probably the same here at home, as well./ It was a grim thought.  Part of her flinched at the thought of seeing her birthplace turned into a vast, enslaved ghetto.  But if she wanted to free it, she must first acknowledge it, right? Having returned to British soil for the first time since her departure with Rose, nearly a year gone, Martha was intent on her task.  /This is it.  Last big push.  One and done; and if it doesn’t work…/But it helped no one to think that way.  /Just focus on the job of it.  Make sure it does happen!/Anyway, there was the little curl of foam that told her it was time indeed.  Without fear of a frigid dunking, she jumped right out of the craft that had carried her stealthily from the larger one which had ferried her across the Channel.  She was already chilled, as well as stiff from long immobility, but she was also well used to such sensations.  Thus, she made it out without fanfare, here amid the shallows.  Splashed onto the shore as quietly as she was able, ignoring as she did the biting cut of the icy waters.  The way it soaked through into her boots, her black trousers, sprayed under her flak jacket.  /I’ll survive.  I always have.  Anyway, maybe soon we’ll be somewhere warm.  Even if it’s only warmed by the presence of a hundred spare bodies./She only had to take the right angle to locate her contact.  The person she meant to meet had signalled staunchly from shore with his covered lantern.  /Just aim for approximately the last position, and you’re connected with the UK underground.//Well, that, and hope it’s not one of the Master’s crack troops, imitating the signal to capture me!/  The last message Rose had managed to send through via their deteriorating comm-link had attested that so far as she knew, the Master had no clue that Martha was en route back home.  /But one never knows, does one?/ In this mess, you had to be ready for anything.  Had to change directions in an instant.Messaging back and forth with Rose—and through her, with their loved ones on the Valiant—was both the most uplifting bit of all of this, but also a bit untested.  Mostly a matter of word of mouth, given the use of electronics might still be traced; and always in code, in case the Master picked up on any of them.  But enough information had been passed for her to know that they were properly coordinating their efforts.  /They should be proceeding with their attack on him right now./  The effort was meant at least in part to distract him from her final, necessary approach.  To buy her the time to ensure that their trigger was set and ready when the long countdown finally reached its climax./And who knows; maybe they’ll even succeed!/  It would be nice, if unlikely.  Save them all a lot of agony.  /But I doubt it.  If the Doctor says it’ll take reversing this paradox to end it, then he’s probably right./She had begun to regain some of her old faith in the Doctor, over the last half a year of repeating her stories to all and sundry.  It may not be back to the grade that had propelled Rose onward.  That devotion and loyalty was unparalleled, and existed to a degree that seemed incredible from Martha’s perspective.  For instance, Rose had never once asked whether she had to do all this, or if there might have been another way.  She just nodded and got on with it; had the sort of faith that never broke or even cracked.  No airs, there.  Just an intent, behind the scenes presence; putting her head down and doing what needed to be done.  /But if I’m not so unconditional in it… I can do this, as well./ Hell; Rose didn’t even know about that time in the sixties, when she had helped that other, female version of the Doctor and her new friends to get that Nestene Consciousness thing out of the Thames.  That they’d swindled that one Weeping Angel to get the plastic thing sent back to wherever it came from, once and for all.  /Something that other Doctor told me they tried to do together on the day they met, but apparently it didn’t stick./  Supposedly the Doctor had tussled with that particular life-form several times over the years; or at least so she had been given to understand by the old companions of his she had met along the way.  /And I helped them fight those Autons; and no one the wiser for it.  I can do this.//Anyway, only one more day./  She yearned for it with a fierceness that almost made her nauseous.  To have it end.  To be done with it, and finally lay down the weary load.  To set aside the persona she had had to build and never asked for, and to lay aside the weight of a mission she had never wanted.  /I wanted to travel to the stars.  And here I am, trapped on the earth, fighting for our very existence./Guess it’s good work for a doctor, though.  In the end, either way, I’m saving lives.  Focus on that, Martha Jones!/She thought she had a good line on where her contact had last been seen.  As she stamped her boots to settle the last of the squelching, chilly water, she caught a faint movement to her left; audible despite the plashing of oarlocks behind her.  Her boat was on its way back, to continue its route; a covert supply run making for the black market hub that was the Isle of Man.  /And godspeed to them./Her contact approached now, lowering the oil lamp in his hand.  “Welcome home.”The low, carrying whisper didn’t make her jump, despite her advanced state of watchfulness.  She was too used to appearing stoic and unflustered to crack now.  “What's your name, then?” she asked briskly by way of skipping the unnecessary pleasantries.“Tom Milligan.  No need to ask who you are.  The famous Martha Jones.”Still so odd to hear people put it like that.She tried to make out the face in the dark, caught a glimpse of intelligent eyes and a few days’ growth of beard.  “Tom,” she acknowledged shortly.By his tones, he didn’t take her terse greeting amiss; maybe even appreciated her businesslike brevity.  “How long since you were last in Britain?”“Three hundred and sixty-five days,” Martha answered with a shrug.  “It's been a long year.”  And didn’t that sum it up?It seemed this Tom wasn’t one to waste time with idle chit-chat, either.  “So what's the plan?”Martha approved of his directness.  /Yeah, might as well./  “This Professor Docherty.  I need to see her.  Can you get me there?”  /Has to be her.  If all goes according to expectations…/“She works in a repair shed.  Nuclear Plant Seven.  I can get you inside.”  A brief hesitation.  “What's all this for?  What's so important about her?”/Oh, if I told you, you wouldn’t help me./  “Sorry.  The more you know, the more you're at risk,” she said instead; both because it was true, and because whether it was or not, it was plausible.  /And I need plausible deniability more than ever, to-night./This Tom fellow didn’t appear to appreciate her prevarication.  “There's a lot of people depending on you,” he muttered, low and equivocal, like he wasn’t quite sure they ought to keep all their eggs in her basket if she wasn’t sure.  “You're a bit of a legend.”So, so weird to hear people repeat it.  “What does the legend say?” she asked with some care.  /Enough that you’re willing to gamble on me, sight-unseen?/“That you sailed the Atlantic.  Walked across America.  That you were the only person to get out of Japan alive…”/Well, the America bit was with Rose.  North, though.  South was all me.  And Japan…/  Her brain sidled neatly away from those memories.  Maybe if she worked hard enough at it, she could forget it entirely.  /Get the screams out of my head./ /But yeah.  Seen and done a lot; things I never thought I would do, or see; or be in any of these places…  But I only saw the nightmare version of them, not the real ones.  Maybe I can do that if we ever manage to fix this mess; revisit those places in a happier time./  “I had a little help,” she admitted, though she wasn’t about to tell anyone about her main advantage, vis a vis the teleport.  /Not because they need to believe I did all that on foot, but because it puts us all in danger./“We all do, or we wouldn’t survive,” Milligan answered, sounding solemn.  “But it’s still impressive.”  His voice went sing-songy.  “Martha Jones, they say, she's going to save the world.”  He paused, looking understandably bleak.  “Bit late for that.”His wry encapsulation of things was wholly understandable, after everything they’d survived, so she didn’t respond aloud. Having led her along a path toward a small, seaside access road, they now appeared to be approaching a flat-bed van.  “How come you can drive?” Martha enquired, given that was a rather suspect bit of licence, these days.  “Don't you get stopped?”  /Please tell me that thing has heat./  If they were in there for long enough, her boots might even dry a touch.Tom appeared to shrug it off.  “Medical staff.  Used to be in paediatrics back in the old days.  But that gives me a licence to travel so I can help out other the labour camps.”/Good work if you can get it./  Even in this godawful reality, medics were in desperately short supply and could thus be expected to put others before themselves.  /In other words, they are both more unlikely to join the resistance, if it risks their patients… and more likely to have a bit of freedom of movement if they did take that risk./  “Great,” she muttered under her breath as she circled round to the passenger door.  Hopefully he couldn’t make it out her sarcasm.  “I'm travelling with a doctor.”As they headed out, Tom picked up the thread of the conversation; almost like he found her intriguing.  “Story goes that you're the only person on Earth who can kill him.”  And she heard it; that thrum of unwilling hope in the back of his voice.  “That you, and you alone, can kill the Master stone dead.”/Depends on what you mean by ‘kill’./  “Let's just drive,” she insisted stonily, in lieu of disabusing him.  The whole point, after all, was to keep people believing the lie, in the hopes that in the end, it would in fact turn out to be true.  /In its own way, anyway./As Tom obliged her, Martha found herself watching his profile, between quick, comprehensive scans of the roadside.  Such actions were instinctive by now, after a year spent on the run, but so was assessment of the allies she met along the way.  Tom Milligan was an attractive sort, in the low light of the van; moreso as the sun rose to limn the area in a crepuscular glow.  He had a bit of scruff along a well-drawn jaw, a sharp but shapely nose, kind eyes, and intent, determined air.  /I’ve had worse companions on the road.  Like that one handsy sonofabitch who tried…/Well.  People tried a lot of things in lawless places here everything was driven by some sort of desperation.  /And not all evil bastards come wearing big signs that say, ‘Master and Time-Lord!’  Some are just regular, piece-of-rubbish human beings who think certain things are owed them by virtue of what they’ve sacrificed./ Also, not every casualty of this war was proffered by the enemy.  Some were downed by friendly fire; as when that particular offender had been shot twelve times by her escort with the Riyadh Resistance. Some of the losses, she mourned as a matter of course.  Some others… not so much.  /We don’t need everybody./ At least their vehicle did have some fitful heat.  Hope sprang from the most miniscule of places, in this rugged, unflattering environment.  /And I will take it wherever I can get it!/By the time they slowed to a stop at the verge of a massive quarry, it was full daylight.  And, they were definitely at the right place.  Erected on the lip of the rough, manmade swale, a truly over-the-top statue of the Master stood high above the pinnacle.  “All over the Earth, those things,” Martha complained ruefully as she passed those unnerving, blank stone eyes.  “He's even carved himself into Mount Rushmore.”  /Rather see them all toppled, and the one they did in New York brought back./ That one was at least deserved.Tom appeared uninterested in commenting on such nonsense, in favour of business first.  “Best to keep down.”  He did a bit of sneaking, by way of leading her to the lip.  “Here we go,” he went on, gesturing to the industrial vista below.  “The entire south coast of England, converted into shipyards.”  His tones were flat, as if the horror of all that green countryside turned grey and uninviting, full of smoke suffering, was one he was well used to by now.  “They bring in slave labour every morning.  Break up cars, houses, anything, just for the metal.  Building a fleet out of scrap.”/And they’re well on the way, aren’t they?/  As far as the eye could see; rockets, pointed toward the stars.  /An invasion force./  “You should see Russia.”  Everyone was stuck in their own separate bubbles, by now; the Master’s own version of divide-and-conquer.  No one able to communicate their common experiences, now the Internet had been turned off, the phone network restricted solely to the Master’s functionaries.  Mostly for coordination of punitive actions.  “That's Shipyard Number One.  All the way from the Black Sea to the Bering Strait, there's a hundred thousand rockets getting ready for war.”  /Despite all the lives spent trying to stop it, in vain./ /And now he’s turning us into aggressors in a galaxy-wide conflict we didn’t ask for!  He’s beyond mad./“War?” Tom demanded, clearly baffled.  “With who?”Might as well just come out with it.  “The rest of the universe.”  Before he could pooh-pooh such an unlikely notion, “I've been out there, Tom.  In space, before all this happened, and there's a thousand different civilisations all around us with no idea of what's happening here.”  /Never know what’s coming, them./  “The Master can build weapons big enough to devastate them all.”Her guide clearly found this sally incredible.  “You've been in space?”/And time, but I’ll save that for another conversation./  “Problem with that?” she enquired softly.A couple of assimilating blinks, then, “No.  No; just er, wow.  Anything else I should know?”Martha felt a mirthless smile touch lips that had not had the occasion much lately.  “I've met Shakespeare.”He let that one pass, likely thinking her a bit mad.  /But then, no-one complains anymore when someone acts a bit crazy.  I doubt any of us are entirely sane, anymore./They ducked when two Toclafane spheres darted in from behind the statue.  “Identify, little man!” one demanded in shrill tones, all while ignoring Martha utterly.Luckily, Tom was too disciplined to glance over at her, didn’t feel the need to seek mental fortitude from others as he bluffed his way past their alien police.  “I've got a licence,” he answered instead with credible calm, and pulled said document from his coat.  “Thomas Milligan, Peripatetic Medical Squad.  I'm allowed to travel.  I was just checking for…”“Soon the rockets will fly, and everyone will need medicine,” the thing answered with cheery disregard.  “You'll be so busy!”With that, the pair of them flew off, down toward the shipyard, laughing maniacally./Lovely./  Interactions with the spheres, while uncommon anymore, were never exactly comfortable.  /Like robot-constables who have a licence to kill and zero regard for human life./Tom was stuck on a specific portion of the interaction, though, as happened in such circumstances.  “But they didn't see you!”Martha shot him a conspiratorial grin.  “How do you think I travelled the world?”He appeared confused by this last, but didn’t pursue it further.  /Maybe he thinks I have magical powers.  Not that a TARDIS key doesn’t more or less qualify, these days./They headed down into the quarry in thoughtful silence.***“…So, because the Master set up Archangel—that mobile network?  Fifteen satellites around the planet, but really it's transmitting this low level psychic field.  That's how everyone got hypnotised into thinking he was Harold Saxon.”Tom took in this explanation with surprising equanimity as he propelled their vehicle around toward the distant rear fence of the shipyard.  After a second spent digesting her words, “Saxon.  Feels like years ago.”/It does./  “But the key's tuned into the same frequency.  Makes me sort of… not invisible, just unnoticeable.”Tom frowned a bit at this, darting her a glance before returning his eyes to the road.  “Well, I can see you,” he pointed out quizzically.Martha favoured him with one of her rare smiles.  “That's because you wanted to.”“Hm. Yeah, I suppose I did.”He was an interesting man.  And, in her former field.  She should keep him at the back of her mind.  /Given we ever get out of this mess intact./  In fact, she nearly asked if there was a Mrs. Milligan, but at the last minute she decided not to.  He was an admirable sort of human, and attractive enough… but at the same time, who knew what might have changed in a year?  /Especially one like this one./ Worth holding onto for future reference, though, if there was a future to be had.  She knew that Jack had other lovers—had even met some of them, over the last several months—so he could hardly be offended if she considered taking up with anyone else during the moments.  Not that she couldn’t mind continuing things with him, after all this, but it was always a good idea to have a back-up plan.  /Besides; we might never get out of this mess… and then where would we be?  We have to find our bits of solace where and when we can./For a generally pragmatic person, she had had to become even moreso in the last year.  It hurt, but it was what it was.  /Survival first.  And to that end…/  “Come on, I've got to find this Docherty woman.”“We'll have to wait until the next work shift.  What time is it now?”Martha checked Jack’s wrist-band.  “It's nearly three o'clock.”Twenty minutes later, they were cutting their way through the chain-link fence around the rear of the main compound.  Once a sizable enough gap had been opened, they dashed, bent almost double, toward a ramshackle tin structure, from which echoed a loud thumping and a low, muttered cursing.  They darted inside, in time to see an older woman standing in front of an old CRT telly, thumping it with abandon.  “C’mon!  Work!”Tom spoke first.  “Professor Docherty?”She didn’t turn round.  “Busy.”/Woman of few words.  I like that./  From what she could assess while their contact’s back was turned, Alison Docherty was about fifty and change, with light, graying hair, care lines abounding, and marks of severity and tragedy around mouth and eyes.  /As well she might./Not that everyone hadn’t lost someone by now. “They, er, they sent word ahead,” Tom tried again.  “I'm Tom Milligan.  This is Martha Jones.”Martha was sent a single, sharp glance, then Docherty turned back to her misbehaving telly.  “She can be the Queen of Sheba for all I care.  I'm still busy.”“Televisions don't work anymore,” Martha reminded her calmly.  /Not unless he decides to make a public address for his adoring fans, anyway./  Was their meant to be a broadcast today?  /Suppose it’d make sense, given the solemn occasion./One last chance to stop it.  /Got to stop it, before the universe ends up burning down with it!/In lieu of replying, Docherty muttered, “Oh God, I miss Countdown.  Never been the same since Des took over.  Both Deses. What's the plural for Des?  Desi?  Deseen?”  Her thin lips pressed together fitfully.  “But we've been told there's going to be a transmission from the man himself.”/Oh.  Joy./  Still, such few-and-far-between events did offer her the rare chance to pick up a hint as to the state of affairs on the Valiant.  Given the situation, Martha of course lived in hopes of seeing even a tiny glimpse of her family or her friends, hovering somewhere in the background of these infrequent broadcasts.  /Please./ After a few more strategic bangs, a static-ridden black-and-white image appeared on-screen, like some ancient witchcraft come to life.  “There!” Docherty announced with grim satisfaction./Reckon it’s time to hear the latest imperial command./Just in time, too, it seemed.  ‘My people!’ the Master’s voice called, like he considered himself superior to every living thing, and expected adulation for it rather than sullen hatred.  ‘Salutations on this, the eve of war!’/Oh, for God’s sake./  The way this ass blathered on like he thought everyone was hanging on his every word was nauseating.His next words were even moreso.  ‘I’ve only just thwarted another ill-advised attempt on my life!’/Oh, shit.  They tried… and failed?/  New, creeping horror was a living thing in Martha.  /What’ll he do to get vengeance on my family for trying it?  And did he catch Rose?/  Bone-deep terror for all her loved ones was like all the energy being drained from her body.  She knew they were going to try, obviously.  Rose had messaged her about it; that they were going to attempt to stop him before the launch.  But their plan had been so thorough!  /Oh, God…/Offended by the temerity of his slaves, the Master’s usual over-dramatic delivery slipped just then, devolving out of nowhere into a sort of maddened, flustered ranting.  ‘When are you idiots going to realise that you can’t fight me?  That you cannot beat me!’  He was raving.  ‘That I am all-powerful!  That I am above all of you; Master of your very existence, lord over your every breath?  That you exist merely and solely for my entertainment?  I mean,’ he added, gesturing around him like he truly couldn’t fathom anyone fighting back, ‘don’t you get that you exist at my whim alone?  Honestly!  Just bend over and enjoy it!’/Wow.  Just… wow./‘Now,’ he went on, having calmed himself somewhere in the interim.  ‘I know there's all sorts of whispers down there.  Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope…’Ignoring the label of ‘child’, Martha peered closely at the screen; hungrily, in hopes that she might catch some clue as to what the bastard might have done to them by way of reprisals.  It had been a week or more since she’d last had any sort of interaction with Rose.  A lot had likely happened in the interim; even before the coup attempt.  /Might see one of my family; see if they’re alright, if he’s found them out./  Fear made her belly feel far more echoingly empty than two days sans food had ever done.  /Or Jack, or the Doctor; or Rose, if she’s been captured.  Not that I want to see her for that reason, but…/  But there remained that vain prospect, each time there was an official broadcast.  That she’d catch even the tiniest glimpse of the people she loved, and in whose names she fought on.After what they had just tried and failed to do, that hollow hope was even more important.  /Unless he’s bragging, and he didn’t catch them?/ There was always that possibility.  The Master was the hell of a politician.  He knew well how to use information as propaganda. ‘But I ask you!’ the Master ranted on, as if by it he could counter all that she had done, kill all the sprouts she had carefully tended all these long months, ‘how much hope has this man got?’  As he said this, he yanked the Doctor into the camera’s range. Slumped over in a wheelchair, the ancient creature, once a young-looking and spry being, bobbled like loose hay at the top of a disturbed stack.  ‘Say hello, Gandalf.  Except he's not that old.  He's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted little apes.  But what if it showed?’The pleasure of seeing one of her people was short-lived, as she realised the reasoning behind this unusual stunt.  /He wants an exhibition.  To show us there’s no reason left to fight him./‘What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate?’ the wanker ranted on, sounding all too self-satisfied.  ‘All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor.  What if we could see them?’  Lifting his laser screwdriver, he fiddled briefly with it… then leveled it at the Doctor once more. /NO!/ Martha shrieked, inside her head.  She was breathing hard, and it was difficult to keep the agony of it from exiting her mouth as the awful tool did its work, sending the Doctor once more into terrifying convulsions.‘Older and older and older.  Down you go, Doctor.  Down, down, down the years.’Finally, the convulsions came to an end.  The Doctor was no longer sitting in the wheelchair, by that point.  Instead, peering up out from under a pile of familiar, empty clothes, crept a tiny creature with massive eyes.  /Like Gollum.  Oh, God…/If Rose was being forced to watch this without any way to help, then she was likely going mad right now.  /I am, and I know I can’t do anything!/The Master allowed a bit of time for his audience to absorb what had just occurred; like a pause for effect.  Then…  ‘Received and understood, Miss Jones?’Rather abruptly, the special broadcast fizzled to a stop, leaving behind nothing once more but endless static./Oh, I get it.  He wants me to think this is my fault.  Wants me to give in to him out of guilt.  Ha-ha.  Tough luck, you prat!/ All such an exhibition could ever do to her was to make her even more determined to see him dead. Tom was the first to speak, eyes on her likely staring face.  “I'm sorry.”/Don’t let him stop you./  “No.  The Doctor’s still alive.”  /Just remember that one fact.  So long as he’s still with us at all…/She had to believe in him, by now.  After all she’d sacrificed in the name of that faith, to break it herself, even as she asked others to continue believing it, would be foolish.  /I can’t ask them to do this if I don’t join them in it.  We all have to believe; with everything in us, if this is to work!  And it has to work!  We’ve no other option left!  If they’ve failed to take him down…/  “He’s still alive, and that’s all that matters.”“Obviously the Archangel Network would seem to be the Master's greatest weakness,” Docherty broke in after a moment of tense silence.  “Fifteen satellites all around the Earth, still transmitting.  That's why there's so little resistance.  It's broadcasting a telepathic signal that keeps people scared.”/Bully for you that you’ve worked that out.  But not everyone is affected.  Not the strong-minded./  Still, she had been impressed with how many people all over the world had managed to shake off the constant conditioning.  She had at least had the comparison of the earlier cognitive dissonance, back when the satellites had been beaming out soothing messages of trust and salvation.  The ‘vote Saxon!’ pulse.  Now it was the opposite of reassuring; but either way, it appealed to the ancient parts of the brain.  Not the reasoning bits, not the neocortex, but the amygdala.  Now it said ‘be afraid, be afraid, don’t step out of line, behave, sit still, don’t move’…  Chanting it to all of humanity, while before it had said, ‘be calm, I’m here, you’ll be fine’. All you had to do was engage your thinking brain to catch sight of the vast chinks in the pulse; to witness the impossible distance that existed between messaging and reality.  So you could consider options, think your way out of it.  Anybody who could became a resistance fighter if they didn’t have any liabilities left.  She had seen enough, all across the world, to know that the pulse was also weaker in places.  /Weaker where people have fewer mobile phones.  Weaker where there’re fewer broadcasts.  Weaker where there’s a stronger sense of community, or in countries where they were already used to privation, and fighting off evil regimes./ In the so-called first world, where most people had gotten used to a certain level of safety and luxury, the effect was far more pronounced.  And yeah; it was tougher to maintain any kind of momentum when pitted against that endless mental whisper; to give in, to give over, and to admit that their overlord had no weaknesses.  /But it’s not true./You had to keep your brain in that thinking place, or you would just turtle.  /Fight, flight, freeze…  So then, pick fight!/  But to do that, one first had to see that the alternatives did in fact still exist.  That not only would freezing gain you nothing, but that flying only got you worse stakes.  /Fighting’s all we have left!  That and faith!  Faith that the goodness of the human spirit will win out; because it has to!/“We could just take them out,” Tom was saying, as if he almost thought the suggestion had merit. Martha jerked back to the present.  /Oh, no no no!  Wrong way to look at it!/ She had to head this off.“We could.  Fifteen ground to air missiles.  You got any on you?” Docherty snarked, before Martha could pooh-pooh the rather ludicrous notion.  “Besides; any military action, the Toclafane descend.”Martha blew out a relieved breath.  “They're not called Toclafane,” she informed them by way of distracting them from thoughts of satellite destruction.  /Twenty-four more hours.  A year and a day.  Like the old handfasting rituals up in Scotland.  One year and off, no harm, no foul.  A year and a day, though?  Symbolic of forever.  So, we’ll end it before that last sun sets!/  “That's a name the Master made up.”For the first time, Docherty appeared to take real notice of her.  “What are they, then?”Martha turned to her, composing herself for her last and biggest lie.  “That's why I came to find you.  Know your enemy.  I've got this.”  She dug out and lifted a computer disc.  “No one's been able to look at a sphere close up.  They can't even be damaged…”  She hesitated for dramatic effect.  “Except once.  A lightning strike in South Africa brought one of them down, just by chance.”  Images in her mind’s eye; of a massive crater in the middle of a deserted city street.  Of the first time in a long time that she had been grateful to know that most of the denizens were long gone.  “I've got the readings on this.”A faint spark of interest lighting her otherwise resigned features, Docherty took the offering and slid it into her battered computer.  Thumped it like she had the TV, as it limped and struggle its way through reading the data.  “Oh, whoever thought we'd miss Bill Gates,” she muttered as she watched the poor old thing compile.“Is that why you travelled the world?” Tom asked Martha in low, fascinated tones.  His eyes, though, remained on the screen.  “To find a disc?”“No.  Just got lucky.”  /It’s not all fiction.  I would like to know what the hell they really are, as well!/“I heard stories that you walked the Earth to find a way to build a weapon,” Docherty put in in passing.  “There!  A current of fifty-eight-point-five kiloamperes transferred charge of five-hundred-and-ten megajoules precisely!”Tom leaned forward, a hand to the rickety metal table, fascinated.  “Can you recreate that?”They held their breaths.  Then, “I think so.  Easily.  Yes.”/Steady as she goes./  “Right then.  Dr. Milligan; we're going to get us a sphere.”***Tom did the honours, firing a gun he’d gotten from who knew where to attract a Toclafane patrol.  A sphere appeared swiftly enough and set to chasing him in exactly the right direction for him to lead it to its destruction.Waiting below, Martha half-turned back to Docherty, the tension of a mission flooding her frame.  “He's coming.  You ready?”“You do your job, I'll do mine!” Docherty snapped back, still fiddling urgently with her bits and bobs, cables and wires.Tom came flying in, shouting, “NOW!” as he passed.Docherty turned on the field just as his heel departed the dedicated space.  The timing was right, thank heavens, and the pursuing sphere was neatly caught in the resultant electrical field they had arranged to snap into being across a narrow passageway.Trapped, the thing vibrated, shrieking… then finally dropped to the ground./We did it!/  Martha had to admit to a certain rather intense curiosity, by now.  “Glad it worked,” she congratulated them, keeping her outward appearance calm.  Half of the capable, unruffled persona she projected was a front, but so long as people believed it…  /Anyway, really, not much fazes me anymore./“That's only half the job,” Docherty muttered.  “Let's find out what's inside.”They set to prying open their unwelcome guest.  It took more doing than expected.  Well, Martha expected it, given they had never managed to pry apart the one that had fallen in the ruins of Pretoria.  /Before it blew up, of course./  “Be careful.  It has some sort of self-defense failsafe.  Might explode.”  /Kill us all; just one day off from the needful.  So, don’t./“Hm.”  Docherty slowed a bit in her efforts, began tugging with a bit more care.Martha crossed her fingers under cover of the metal table.  She had high hopes that with such a specialist on hand, they might succeed this time.  “We could never figure it out, the last time; only took external readings.  Scans.  Tough to penetrate, to see what’s inside.  Good self-defence measures.”“Mm,” Docherty answered, all monosyllables and irritation.  “There's some sort of magnetic clamp.  Hold on, I'll just trip the…”Abruptly and without fanfare, the four quarters at the top of the sphere fell open… and revealed a horror.  “Oh my God!” Docherty cried, showing real emotion for the first time.Martha felt faint as she peered into the metallic object.  Of all things she might have suspected lived inside these things, a tiny, wizened, human-like head wasn’t one of them!  /Nor yet one that’s strapped in there with, like, skin-clamps!/  The head was stretched between the walls of its carapace like a hide being dried by a fire.  Bit like how Rose had described ‘Cassandra, the last human’.  It was alarming as hell to look at.When its eyes snapped open, they all jumped as one.  “It's alive,” Docherty breathed, like she couldn’t quite believe it.When it spoke, though, the sphere didn’t address her, or the silent Tom.  “Martha.  Martha Jones.”/Well, fuck./ “It knows you,” Tom whispered, sounding baffled and intrigued.Martha wasn’t intrigued, though.  She felt something clamber up her spine; a prescience that this wasn’t going to be pleasant at all.  “Yes?” she ventured finally.“Sweet, kind Martha Jones.  You helped us to fly!”/Helped…/  She wet her lips, cleared her throat.  “What do you mean?”“You led us to salvation.”This was turning into a scene from a horror film.  “Who are you?” she heard herself demand, as if from a great distance.The response she got was not at all expected.  “The skies are made of diamonds!”The phrase hit her like a punch to the gut.  “NO.” She remembered exactly where she had heard those words before now.  /In the year a hundred-trillion; from the mouth of a babe./  “No.  You can't be him!” It wasn’t possible!“We share each other's memories,” the tormented, mad face insisted.  “You sent him to Utopia.”“Oh, my God.”  /Creet.  The kid with the clipboard; one of these, now?  They’re all from the end of the universe!  All those people, from the silo…/But, how?Tom was, of course, baffled.  “What's it talking about?  What's it mean?”“What are they?” Docherty chimed in, watching her intently.Martha couldn’t at all find the words. She felt a rough hand fall to her shoulder, as Tom gave her a shake to tweak her out of her staring fit.  “Martha.  Martha, tell us!  What are they?”Somehow, she located her voice, though the horror of it outlined every word. “They're us.  They're humans.  The human race from the future.”  /How?  How did he do it?  Did they multiply themselves, or…  Some sort of cloning, maybe?/Her two listeners stared, incredulous and awaiting further explanation.  Somehow, she gave it, though later she could never have said how she’d kept herself talking.  “I'd sort of worked it out with the paradox machine.  With an old friend; because the Doctor said, on the day before the Master came to power, he said…” All too easy to recall it, now, though the events were a year gone.  “When he was stealing the TARDIS, the only thing I could do was fuse the coordinates.  I locked them permanently.  He can only travel between the year one-hundred-trillion and the last place the TARDIS landed; which is right here, right now.”  “The Master had the TARDIS.  This time machine; but the only other place he could go was the end of the universe.”  It all made so much sense, now.  “So, he found Utopia,” she murmured, feeling ill as she lifted her eyes to her rapt audience.  “The Utopia Project was the last hope.  Trying to find a way to escape the end of everything…”  /Couldn’t change the times it could travel, but it could change the places.  So he followed them, and…  And cannibalised them, as well as the TARDIS; and finally, us./“There was no solution,” the sphere who was once called Creet informed her, solemn and yet also fully mad.  “No diamonds.  Just the dark and the cold.”/Oh, I am so sorry!  But, how could we have known?/The thing’s tones turned gleeful with startling suddenness.  “But then the Master came with his wonderful time machine to bring us back home!”/Oh.  Oh, God…/“But… that's a paradox!” Docherty announced, because no-one could say she wasn’t quick.  “If you're the future of the human race, and you've come back to murder your ancestors, you should cancel yourselves out.  You shouldn't exist!”Suddenly it all made enormous sense.  “And that's why the paradox machine!”  It all fit; exploding into reality in Martha’s mind.  /You destroyed everything the TARDIS was so you could hold your insane, impossible plot together.  You madman!/“But what about us?” Tom was saying, accusing and confused.  “We're the same species!  Why do you kill so many of us?”The response they got was absolutely insane.  “Because it's fun!”Martha wasn’t at all surprised when Tom, expression obdurate, shot the thing right in the brainpan.  /Goodbye, Creet.  I’m so sorry./The subsequent silence echoed in her ears, amid the roaring of shock.  /How did this happen?/Docherty had already turned away from the dead sphere, set on facing her down.  “I think it's time we had the truth, Miss Jones.  The legend says you've travelled the world to find a way of killing the Master.  Tell us; is it true?”/Again, depends on what you mean by it./  Time to sell her story just once more, it seemed.  “Just before I escaped, the Doctor told me.  The Doctor and the Master, they've been coming to Earth for years.  And they've been watched.”  /Watched, fought, joined…/  “There's UNIT and Torchwood, all studying Time Lords in secret.”  She rummaged in her mental kit, tugged out the fools gold she needed if she was to pull this off.  The definitive mind-game.  “And they made this.  The ultimate defence.”  As she said it, she pried open the case to reveal her trump card; a gun-like device, with a squeeze trigger and four small cylinders along the top.  Nestled next to it were three vials of coloured liquid.  Put together, it all looked very mysterious and impressive.  /And to think I put it all together in one night in some warehouse in, where was it?  Bogota?/ The base of it was a gun a resistance-fighter had cobbled together as a makeshift side-arm while coming back from Peru.  He’d died in a firefight, leaving Martha in sole possession of his few belongings.  /Speaking of cannibalizing something and turning it into something else.  But this time, what I’ve created is hopefully…  Well, hope!//I wonder if Rose would like it, if she saw it./  She rather thought the Doctor would, gun aside.  He was big on subterfuge, sleight of hand, and general dramatics.It must have fooled these two, at least.  By Tom’s fervid expression, he was now fully on-side.  “All you need to do is get close.  We can shoot the Master dead with this.”  Reaching out like he was seeking salvation, he reverently lifted the device.“Actually, you can put that down now, thank you very much,” Docherty took him to task.He did so, if with visible reluctance.  Once he had, Martha cleared her throat and set to selling the rest of her grand fiction.  “Point is, it's not so easy to kill a Time Lord.  They can regenerate.  Literally bring themselves back to life.”  That much, at least, was no lie.Docherty turned, sat back in the nearest battered chair, looking very much as if the wind had been stolen from her sails.  “Ah, the Master's immortal.  Wonderful.”Her caustic comment was well-deserved.  /Sell it like you’ve never sold it before, Martha./  “Except for this,” she asserted firmly.  “Four chemicals, slotted into the gun.  Inject him.”  /Not a gun, really, but an air-syringe.  Something a doctor-in-training might come up with, if you will./  “Kills a Time Lord permanently.”  /If only./“Four chemicals?”  Tom looked askance into her little prop case.  “You've only got three.”“Still need the last one,” Martha agreed easily, and managed not to hold her breath.  “The components of this gun were kept safe, scattered across the world; and I found them.  San Diego, Beijing, Budapest…”  She lifted her eyes to his.  “And London.”Tom was beginning to get quite visibly excited, by now.  “Then where is it?”/Just got to get close enough to be picked up in a raid.  Close enough to be taken not to some satellite work-camp for re-education, but instead, straight to him.  Directly to him./  “There's an old UNIT base, north London.  I've found the access codes.”  She turned everything she had on the former paediatrician; full of solemn pleading and an affirmation of the finality of her goal.  “Tom, you've got to get me there.”Her guide looked doubtful; as if he had lost a great deal of momentum, hearing this last.  “We can't get across London in the dark.  It's full of wild dogs.  We'll get eaten alive.  We can wait till the morning, then go with the medical convoy.”Resignation was a familiar emotion by now.  /But will that be in time?/  Yeah, in reality she only needed to make it to the centre of the ruined city, not to the ex-UNIT camp to the north.  Still, time was the only remaining concern.  /A whole year; and now everything is happening all at once, in one massive rush!  And if I don’t get everything in place by midnight, then…/“You can spend the night here, if you like,” Docherty offered.  Not that Martha had thought she wouldn’t, given what she knew. /And I can’t afford it, thanks anyway./  Somehow, she had to get Tom to take her to the city.  /No more time left to waste!/“No, we can get halfway,” Tom jumped in, thank goodness.  “Stay at the slave quarters in Bexley.”  He held out a hand, while Martha breathed a sigh of relief.  He sounded well-prepared to head off and do the next necessary thing.  “Professor, thank you.”Docherty took the slight well.  “And you.”   Her tired, hopeless eyes drifted to Martha’s, then fell guiltily away.  “Good luck.”“Thanks.”  /And, I forgive you.  Already, for what you’re about to do, because I know it’s necessary./As they were turning to go, Docherty called after her.  “Martha, could you do it?  Could you actually kill him?”  Like she was reconsidering.  Like she was starting to hope, again.And in the face of that, she had to sell the lie just one more time.  “I've got no choice.”As swiftly, Docherty’s tones slipped from excited to regretful, once more.  The lines in her face deepened back to tragic immobility.  “You might be many things, but you don't look like a killer to me.”/She’ll do what she must, because she can’t believe it./  Professor or no, the constant pressure of the messaging had done its work too well, here.  /But then, like I always say…  Only join the resistance if you don’t have any liabilities, anymore.  Because they will be used against you!/Soon, she would see her friends again.  /The countdown’s almost over./  She found herself wondering, as she usually did in these breathless, waiting moments, whether her last-ditch efforts would be enough to bear fruit.  /At least the Doctor’s still alive.  So long as he is…  There’s hope./***After some extended dodging of patrols, and having long abandoned Tom’s bulky vehicle, they eventually found their way to Bexley.  Afoot by now, Tom approached the appropriate door, knocked a few times in what sounded like a pre-determined pattern.  “Let me in.  It's Milligan.”As usual, once inside, the scene was set for one of her on-stage moments.  Such a familiar sight by now that she could have painted it on a canvas by memory alone.  The smells of infirmity, sickness, unwashed bodies, despair.  The sounds of hunger; crying children, fitful babies.  The hush, the depressed energy of a building full to bursting, nearly standing-room only.  People crammed in shoulder-to-shoulder; on stairs, along walls, on floors.  The piteous cries for help.  “Did you bring food?”“Couldn't get any,” Tom answered with some regret.  “And I'm starving,” he muttered in sad solidarity.“All we've got is water,” their greeter told them, bitterness a living thing in her voice. /And I’ve got to change all that, again.  Bring hope where there is none.  Where everyone has been ground down to the nubbin, has nothing left./So many times, she had done this, that it felt like a repetitive, inescapable nightmare.  “I'm sorry.”  /I wish I had the power to really help you people, rather than just peddling fanciful stories./On the other hand, hope really was a sort of currency, in these places and times.  /It keeps them going when there’s nothing else.  Nothing left./“It's cheaper than building barracks,” Tom was telling her in an aside.  “Pack them in, a hundred in each house, ferry them off to the shipyards every morning.”“I know.  It’s like this everywhere.”  /No hope on the surface of it.  But if I can just…//Just one more time./As if reading her mind, a teenaged boy spoke up from the steps in front of her.  “Are you Martha Jones?”Like she was a mythical figure.  She would never get over that.  “Yeah, that's me.”  /Not what you expected, I bet./The boy turned swiftly fierce; like all the energy he had left was tied up in that vain hope that she carried with her.  “Can you do it?  Can you kill him?  They said you can kill the Master, can you?  Tell us you can do it.  Please, tell us you can do it!”Martha opened her mouth, prepared to trot out her usual ringing phrases, but this time she was interrupted.  “Who is the Master?” their greeter asked, confused and doubtful.And like that, the dams broke.  A babble of voices rose all round them; like a flood of gossip and spoken word.  Of wistful recollection and hopeful urgings./And me alone at the centre of it all./  Sometimes it was so much; it was so bloody much to carry!At her elbow, Tom appeared oddly protective as he scanned her face.  “Come on, just leave her alone.  She's exhausted.”She would dearly love to rest, yeah.  Hadn’t slept in two days, she’d been so keyed up about the final act of this three-ring circus.  But.  /No rest for the few, the proud./  “No, it's alright.  They want me to talk, and I will.”It was, after all, her central duty. They smushed over; made space for her at the base of the stairs.  She settled between smelly bodies, some of them vibrating with excitement at her presence, some barely hanging on, trembling with fatigue and hunger.  /And I have to rally them all.  God./  “I travelled across the world,” she began, as ever.  “From the ruins of New York to the fusion mills of China, right across the radiation pits of Europe.  And everywhere I went, I saw people just like you, living as slaves.”  /So many./  And in the face of all that?  /Only this.  This one thing.  Which means it has to be enough; or what’s the point of any of it?/  “But if Martha Jones became a legend, then that's wrong, because my name isn't important.”  /None of our names are, in the end.  Mine, Jack’s, Rose’s…  Not my family, not hers, not one single one of us.  Because we can’t do whatever the hell he plans to do with this paradox; with the Network; with any of it./ /Only he can do that.  And I think even I believe in him again, now./  The intensity of her feelings bled through as she spoke; as she leaned forward to impart the most important message there was left in the world.  “There's someone else.  The man who sent me out there.  The man who told me to walk the Earth.  And his name is the Doctor.”  /That small, shrunken thing, and yet he still survives to spit in that bastard’s face.  He’s hanging on to save us all; and I have to believe that he will!/  “He has saved your lives so many times, and you never even knew he was there.”  /I don’t even know how many!  Hundreds; maybe thousands!/  “He never stops.  He never stays.  He never asks to be thanked.”  /Won’t even take tea with the people he’s saved, most times./  “But I've seen him.  I know him.”  /Moreso now, maybe, than I did before.  And I even think, still…/  “I love him.”  /As he really is, now; not some fanciful, schoolgirl crush.  More importantly…/  “And I know what he can do…”She was cut off when they heard it; the sound of a familiar voice, calling her name outside.  “Martha Joooonessss!”The entire complement of the packed-to-the-gills house froze in horror at the sound of that particular, nightmare voice.  “It's him!” a woman cried, already panicked.  “It's him!  Oh my God, it's him!  It's the Master.  He's here!”Hearing it, Martha sucked in a hard, fortifying breath.  /At exactly the proper time.  Rose was right.  Some things really do come round right in the end.  Anyway, I’ve done all I can; and then some./Soon, one way or the other, it would be time to rest, finally.  /But first; showtime./Behind Martha, the boy with the hope in his eyes sounded incredulous.  “But he never comes to Earth!  He never walks upon the ground!”“Hide her!” someone shouted, strident with fear.“Here.  Use this!” Tom hissed, and threw something over her head as she obligingly ducked down.  Some old bit of sacking, maybe. /Not that it’ll work.  They’ll search the whole place.  Kill the lot of you if you try to hide me from him./  She knew she would have to give herself up, eventually.  Which was, yes, a terrifying thought… but by now, it was also one outlined with an odd sense of ceremony.  /The right time.  Finally.//Time to be done, for better or worse./Tom had by now moved to the door, holding his illegal weapon at the ready.  Outside, the Master came on, accompanied by armed men; an honour-guard for his majesty.Martha really, really hoped she could keep down the bloodshed tonight.  /And more importantly, that seeing me taken and my ‘weapon’ unfinished won’t surgically remove all their hope./“He walks among us, our lord and master,” the one, odd teen boy intoned.  Like a portent.*   *   *

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FOUR:
Things had been a lot easier back when Rose had had access to Jack’s transport.  For one, with that, they had been able to jump away from any threats.  It had pained both her and Martha to do it, in the past; to escape raids meant for them, while leaving behind whole cells to be deleted by the Master’s hired goons.  But they had an overarching mission, couldn’t allow themselves to be caught with the rest when the hammer came down.  /Even if sometimes they were taken because they were harbouring us./Guilt was part and parcel of holding oneself necessarily apart.Now, though, freedom of movement was an entirely other problem for Rose.  Instead of trading the wrist-band off and on with Martha, or transporting back and forth from the Valiant to the surface and back again, as she might once have hoped, she had to rely too heavily on the perception key.  Which was a tough prospect for a lot of troop-related reasons.  First, after a couple kamikaze attacks by disgruntled commandos who were still desperate enough to recall their oaths to Queen and Country, the Master had dismissed or killed everyone who hadn’t sworn fanatical loyalty to him personally.  Now, the crack troops with whom the Master had chosen to surround himself were, one, all slavering disciples who would stop at nothing to protect him, and who, secondly, knew the ship in and out, since they never left it… and who, thirdly, had a pretty good idea of what to look for when it came to those keys of theirs. Dodging that lot was a lot tougher than avoiding routine patrols had been in the past, and down on the surface.  Tougher even than hiding from Tac groups sent to bring them into custody.  Rose spent most of her time sleepless; sneaking from corner to corner in the first weeks till she located a few steady hiding-places that that lot somehow didn’t know of.  And while she was used to irregular sleep while on the TARDIS, this was a whole other level of interrupted REM.  Hyper-vigilant, only dozing lightly off whenever she managed to locate an incredibly remote corner of the massive ship (preferably one that was silent enough she could hear if anyone snuck up on her, ie, not by an engine or anything) and wedging herself into it.  Even then, she effected a sort of ‘dolphin-style’ sleep that could be broken at the slightest noise, but didn’t offer much in the way of real rest. Desperate and aware that soon she would collapse into a deep slumber from which she might awaken in chains, she had even attempted to get some better-quality downtime by sneaking back onto the butchered TARDIS.  For one, she knew that space a lot better than she did the Valiant.  Two, hopefully the soldiers, in turn, did not; had maybe even avoided the uneasy entity buried in the bowels of the larger vessel.  By it, thus, she thought she might more easily secret herself in some nook or cranny therein.  Also, third and very helpfully, she would likely have a way out in case she was located, since most corridors on that vessel were circular.  (Not so with the little dead-end nooks she found for herself on the carrier, which was one of their main disadvantages.) The benefit to going this route was of course that that even if the troops seeking her out somewhat knew their way around the TARDIS, they could never know it as well as a person who had lived there off and on for a couple of years.  Two, it turned out that they were, in fact, apparently terrified to go into it.  The drawback she hadn’t considered, though, was that she really couldn’t relax there, anymore, either. Far from a familiar holt, the living ship was now an agonised, Frankensteined disaster, throbbing its wrongness into her very bones.  Maybe she had simply become far too alert to the living ship’s moods and tells, but she thought even someone new to the TARDIS wouldn’t rest in the midst of that pained, groaning, flashing traffic-stop of a situation, so no help there.But she couldn’t go on that way, and she knew it well.  So, in the end she’d had to reveal herself to the others, even if it endangered them.  She hadn’t wanted to put further strain on their situation, but it seemed she would have to at least somewhat rely on their aid to keep herself safe enough to rest once in a while.  /And to be fed, on occasion./  Accessing food while in hiding on a closed system like a naval vessel was as difficult a proposition as was getting any sleep; even if there were only a few Royal Marine Commandos in comparison to the several hundred sailors who had been filched from the Royal Navy to run the day-to-day operations of the vessel. She could attempt to cultivate some of them, of course.  Employ a sob story and a few feminine wiles… but she honestly couldn’t take that risk.  Any one of them might simply turn her over to the Master for a transfer back down to the planet to see their family, or in order to curry favour if they were, in fact, also permanently trapped in this duty. No.  working from behind the scenes as she was, the only recourse she had, really, was to get in touch with their people unwillingly part of the Master’s staff, and to cross her fingers that none of them had given over and become his wholly, or been tortured or manipulated into turning spy.That road was difficult as well, though.  Bad enough to watch relative strangers being abused by that bastard, or tormented for being on the Doctor’s side… but the Joneses were also a captive audience for the Master’s colossal-but-fragile ego.  Martha’s family was really going through it up here on this ship.  Turned into his personal servants, they were daily taunted, gaslighted, and generally treated like shit by him out of his mere wish to be superior to everyone and to ‘revenge himself’ on the people who were most likely to oppose him.  He noticeably reveled in performing small, offensive acts to screw up their days; and of course, to do so in front of the silent Doctor, who was forced to sit and watch him destroy countless lives while he was powerless to aid any of them. In summary, it was beyond disgusting, watching them have to bow and scrape and curtsey to him, though the way they nobly bore up under the mistreatment was definitely inspiring.  It was gross as well, watching the growing evidence that he was physically abusing poor Lucy Saxon (who still remained loyal for some baffling reason that Rose couldn’t at all fathom). Bruised, pale, lost, Lucy Saxon was a confusing puzzle for Rose.  Yeah, the woman had chosen her lot; but it remained awful, each time Rose managed to sneak up to the bridge, to see the next evidence that she had been punched in the face or whatever it was that week.  /Why the hell are you sticking with him, girl?  It can’t be worth it!  Are you scared to leave?  Have you just decided there’s no way out anyway?  And if so, then when?  From the moment you first saw him?/ She wondered if Lucy had been a part of the group that had been sent to ‘Utopia’, or if the Master had picked her up here, later on.  The former made a lot more sense, from the prospect of her choosing to go with him by fleeing from such a godawful life at the end of the universe.  /If she’d already given in, given up hope, and he preyed on that, offered her an escape… maybe she simply accepts her lot, because once she agreed and stepped on board the TARDIS, she decided whatever he did to her, he was still better than what she’d already endured./If she was from this time and place, though…  /I know this sort of thing happens to women all over the world all the time, but I simply don’t understand it.  Surely if she wanted to get out, she could find a way to, I dunno; smuggle herself out of here or something?/Granted, things weren’t much better down on the surface.  Quite often, they were substantially worse, so maybe she simply felt it was better to stay close to the few creature-comforts she could contrive for herself, and to make herself somewhat irreplaceable to her hideous beau.It was all Rose could think of that made any amount of sense.Anyway, Lucy was no help, couldn’t be trusted; but the Joneses were, of course.  They had the distinction of working in the kitchens; which was, of course, a rather privileged position as pertained to access to authority, ability to overhear shifts in the chess-game of their lives… and of course obtaining food for themselves.  Which meant they were able to pass on both information and rations to others working from the shadows.  They had tried in the past, of course, to send on messages with various commandos who had once been available and on-side, to warn their daughter and Rose of attempts to capture them.  But once that source of available emissaries had dried up, there had been that dearth of information coming down from the Valiant to warn them.  /Hence my coming up here.  He’s right again; like always.  You want to know what’s goin’ on…/ The Master’s private kitchen staff were obviously overjoyed to hear from Martha, even second-hand.  They had, after all, spent nearly a half a year sending warnings down with others in hopes they would reach their daughter and save her, and perhaps also Leo and his small family… but the two girls had never once been able to send any message back up to reassure that lot that their efforts had not been in vain. Once Rose had revealed herself from a corner outside the range of one of the kitchen cameras, things had gotten measurably better.  Of course, she had passed on in whispers their loved one’s encouragement and private missives, which had sent them into transports of relief.  Thereafter, they had been happy enough to support Rose’s efforts, so that was helpful.  “Leo’s fine.  The baby’s alright.  They’re bouncing round the Mediterranean to stay clear of reprisals.”Mrs. Jones had looked ready to faint from relief.  “Oh, thank God…”“Hold on, Francy,” Mr. Jones had told her, propping her up.  “Don’t stop working, or they’ll notice.”  Then, as Mrs. Jones hurriedly went on with her stirring of some pot or other, “What about our Martha?”“Alive and well,” Rose reassured him as he went on transferring stacks of plates from one side of the kitchen to the other.  This strong man, powerful man, and two very capable women, reduced to servitude.  Their darting eyes and hunted demeanours were foul to watch.  /They needed the pick-me-up./  “She’s still travellin’ all over the world; building resistance cells.”  /And the more organised, more wide-spread that resistance is, the more on-edge the Master will be.  Two-sided attack.  Might make it easier for us to stop him from up here, if she’s constantly making him mental from down there.  And the more we can make him mental from up here, the easier it’ll be for them to resist down there./ The arrangement was quite wonderfully circular.  /Doesn’t matter how far apart we are, so long as we never stop helping each other!/Tish, to one side, paused in her frantic vegetable-chopping to stare.  “She’s doing what?”Rose was a bit taken aback by this reception to what she had thought was common knowledge by now.  /Surely they’ve heard enough about our activities to know that?/  “You haven’t heard?”“We did,” Tish answered, keeping her eyes on her task so no one would notice they were talking to someone off-camera.  “I just couldn’t credit it, is all.”Alright; what was it with everyone discounting Martha?  /Even her own family./  “She’s amazin’ at it, actually.”  /Believe it!/“Huh.”“Anyway, we’re in touch, so you can pass on any warnings through me, now the military’s been exposed.  But in return…”  /Please say yes./  “D’you think you can pass on any food to me?”  It had been, by that point, two days since she’d eaten; and that had been a fairly scant meal, with Martha down in that empty building.“Oh, right, sure,” Mr. Jones had exclaimed, and moved to one side to dish out some bread from a sideboard.  He’d passed on the plate to Mrs. Jones, who had hurriedly pulled out a hunk of meat from whatever was being stewed. They had passed on the scraps to Rose, who had dashed them down almost too swiftly, had to hold back her urge to retch before finishing and handing the plate back.  The first meal with any real richness after a couple of hollow days tended to be a shock to the system. She managed to hold down her gorge till it settled, grateful for what she’d gotten and unwilling to lose it.  Finally, “Thanks.  Alright.  I’ll find you next time there’s a message.  And if you have one for Martha… tell Jack.  He can pass it on to me.  I’ll check in with him once a day.”  They were the ones who fed her friend—and of course she had located him right off—so it was a workable system.Speaking of, it was also really, really good to speak to Jack, even if looking at him hurt even more than what had been done to Martha’s family.  He was kept chained down in the ship’s brig; on his feet twenty-four-seven, dangling from his arms between two stout posts to sleep.  Half-naked, tattered; a plaything to be tormented and regularly killed for the Master’s twisted entertainment.  Rose wasn’t sure how he was keeping his head on straight, after months of that.  How he remained somewhat cheerful, if in a cynical fashion, having put up with helplessness and torture without pause for so long.  It ought to have done his head in.  /He should be raving./ Seeing her, though, seemed to put some wind back in his flagging sails.  “ROSE?” he whisper-screamed when he saw her lurking round a support-beam. “Shh!”  She didn’t dare rush over there to hug him, since there had to be cameras on him for the Master’s amusement, but oh, did she ever wish she could.  He looked awful, strapped up like that, half-naked and covered, this week, in burn weals.  Scars underneath, of other attentions, as well; layers of evidence as to what he had endured.Before going anywhere with this, she had asked the Joneses if any of the cameras had microphones.  They had told her that only some of them did, but that down in the brig, given the size of the chamber, the person torturing Jack usually just used their radio to send the audio of the event up to the flight deck.  “Better reception closer to,” Clive had muttered in a low, furious voice./Good thing.  We’ll have an easier time communicating./  “I’ll be about,” she told her dear friend, fighting off the tears that wouldn’t help him right now.  “I’m gonna act as liaison, now we’ve lost the commandos.  Anything the Jones family hears that can help Martha, tell me and I’ll send her an encoded message from my phone to your wristband.”Jack’s expression underwent a total transformation, now he had something to do that counted as real resistance.  “Oh, Rose,” he’d told her joyously, “you don’t know how timely your coming here is.  This has been rough trying keep up this whole time.”/I ‘magine./  She wouldn’t cry, though.  It wouldn’t help him, and he oughtn’t to have to try to comfort her!  /He’ll hear it in my voice, but…/  “Can I do anything to help?”  /God, watching you like this…/“Just…  My people?” he’d asked her; half-reluctant in case he didn’t like the answer.  Terror for them written all over his face, as if worry for others harmed him more than the fear of further torture could do.Thank goodness she could give him something like good news in that vein.  “Met Gwen and Ianto.  They’re amazing people…”A massive sigh of relief.  “Yeah.  They are.  What about Toshiko?”He wasn’t going to like it.  “Last I heard, she was captured at Potsdam.  During the uprising.”  /Didn’t even have to be there, either, as a medico; but she chose to help./  It was always the most selfless, in Rose’s experience, that were lost first.She didn’t need to say it for him to know that his friend was likely dead, given she was a rather courageous ringleader in that disastrous attempt.  “I’m sorry.”“Yeah.”  Silence, then, “Thanks for the update.”/God./  “I’ll try to get word to them.” A pained nod, then, “Just keep up with what you’re doing.  Hearing about what you two got up to down there was all we had to cling to.  Now, knowing we can help her, and you…”  Then, more urgently, “Don’t go up to the bridge, Rose; please.  I know you’ll want to see him, talk to him; but the Master never leaves him alone.  When he goes off to sleep, he leaves him there in his wheelchair, sure; but he’s always under guard.”/Alright, but surely I could…/Unfortunately, Jack could read her like a book.  “No.  Rose, listen.  I mean it.  If you need to pass on a message, let us do it, but for God’s sake, don’t go up there!  If he captures you, he’ll take great delight in torturing you in front of the Doctor just to see if it’ll break him.  It drives him nuts that he can’t break him; and we both know that would do it if nothing else has!”  A tired wince and a tiny gesture with his fingers toward his own body.  “He’s laid off me for the most part of late, since he’s found that the Doctor either doesn’t care, or is good at pretending he doesn’t care what happens to me.  But if it was you…”He didn’t need to finish.  They all knew what the outcome of such a faux pas would be.  Anyway, it was painful as hell to see Jack looking so frantic, sounding so panicked.  After all he’d been through…  /God.  The trauma of all this is going to last the hell of a long time, for our lot./  “Alright.  If you say so.”  Seeing the Doctor, in whatever altered form, had admittedly been one of her greatest motivating factors for volunteering for this mad duty… but if it wasn’t feasible, then at least she was now close enough to hand to help if it was ever needed. Given that remaining up here, staying in hiding in even a ship this large had seemed unlikely at best, she had in fact planned to make a few excursions back down to the surface to check in on Martha in person.  She had assumed that even with the change-up in personnel, she might manage to sneak back up on troop ships.  But it seemed those had ceased, for the most part, as the Master sealed off his fancy vessel from the rabble below, keeping himself staffed with the faithful only, and with his support staff of enlisted naval personnel disallowed from leave.  /No one comes on, no one gets off.  The Valiant; hermetically-sealed throne-room, drifting round the world to look down on it from on high./Even if there had been shuttles coming and going like there once had been, they would by now be filled largely with people fanatically loyal to that bastard, which meant they might make her out, key or no key.  And yeah; fine.  Jack was right that being captured wouldn’t help anyone, so there went that outlet.  /It’s alright, though.  I made my choice and I’ll live with it.  Six months, give or take.  I’ll survive, somehow, till that bloody countdown’s done.  And so will Martha.  I’ll see to it!/Her warnings having done their part, she thought at least her friend hadn’t had to move on so fast that she’d had to flee with just what she had on her, as had happened a few times when they had been together down there.  Hadn’t had to start over anymore, continue the work with less, and with fewer allies to hand; because with sufficient warning, the nearby cells could also go to ground, rather than being wiped out in her wake.  Given what she heard from the rumour-mill, she thought Martha was making the most of the new capacity for news, and then some.  Was doing very well indeed, down there.  Found herself smiling each time someone on some camera somewhere passed on a muttered, “Martha Jones.  They say she’s going to save the world.”/And she will./  God, Rose was proud of her comrade-in-arms; down there, on her lonesome, doing the damn thing.  /Makes it worth it, bein’ lonely as hell.//Meanwhile, all we can do is wait, and do what we can./  Passed on along with bits of food snuck from the kitchens, the Jones clan were able to send several warnings to their famous daughter, which had helped with their morale for sure, that they no longer had to stand helplessly by and wonder if she’d be caught and damaged in some raid or other.  With Rose and her phone to hand, they foiled upwards of four other attempts to take Martha captive or to end her life in some bombing or strafing run or commando action or whatever it was that week.  /Keep her alive and doing the work./Good timing, too.  There had been a significant uptick in the Master’s attempts to take her out.  /Likely he’s heard of this weapon of hers./  Rose was somewhat startled that he’d been taken in by the farce, but then, given what the older companions had told them, maybe he wouldn’t put much past them after all these years spent studying Gallifreyans.  /I mean, since they had a pet Time Lord of their own hangin’ about for years, and he was there to witness it, no doubt he finds it believable that they’ve managed to come up with something dangerous to him if he ever came back.  New technology and all./The Jones family also saved Rose herself quite a number of times.  /I hate that they’re stuck in this position, but without the Joneses, where would we be?/  She might have been caught any number of times while trying to filch something to still her grumbling innards, or while sleeping in some corner at the wrong time, when a pass was made through the bowels of the ship to locate her.  Or, and this was the most likely, during one of her ill-conceived attempts to sneak onto the flight deck; drawn despite discretion warning her off, and top-filled with a burning need to just lay eyes briefly on her Doctor. /Does he know I’m up here?  Can he sense me, near to?/  the Joneses had told him, of course, how matters had changed, but given that the man hadn’t uttered a syllable since the day the Master had reft him of a hundred years, no one knew if he was taking anything in, or if he’d gone catatonic with grief.  /Do you know I’m here, with you, Doctor?  Do you know that I’ll never leave your side?/Finally, after a half a bloody year of ducking and dodging and short food and even shorter sleep, Rose found herself on the final day of their long effort.  A full year from when they had teleported away from the flight deck of a ship commanding a worldwide coup; and now participating in a last-minute attempt to overtake the bastard and to end all this once and for all.  /We can do it while he’s up there speaking to his adoring public, thinkin’ he’s all that.  Better if they see it.  And either way, if we fail, hopefully we got the timing right.//Make use of it, Martha, while you can.  Make it worth it, in case he ends us for the effrontery of it./Anyway, if they did succeed…  She could only imagine that such a last-minute boost to the network-related plan would send paradox-reversal efforts right over the top. Earlier in the day, they had all passed their silent messages.  Rose, concealed in the cupboard that had once housed the TARDIS, got her first glimpse of the Doctor in a year; got to watch as the Master came prancing into the throne room to lord it over his slaves.  “Ah, what a lovely day; don’t you think, dear Doctor?” he announced, sounding impossibly chuffed and just top-loaded with especial malice for his conquered polity.  “Think of it!”  He waved a hand toward the viewing deck.  “It's ready to rise!  The new Time Lord Empire.”  He glanced back, as if he was unable to go on without seeking some reaction, some praise even, from his nemesis.  “It's good, isn't it?  Isn't it good?”Hunched in his wheelchair, the Doctor remained stubbornly silent; likely afraid that anything he said would be taken out on his allies. “Anything?  No?  Nothing?”  A shrug from the Master as he turned back from the bank of windows to regard his fellow Time Lord with no small measure of pleasant, cheery spite.  “Oh, but they broke your hearts, didn't they, those Toclafane, ever since you worked out what they really are.” /Alright, here we go.  What the hell are they?/“And they say Martha Jones has come back home.  Now why would she do that?”/Might ask that./  It was a bit discomfiting to hear that he knew about her return, but…  /All we can do is hope it’ll all work out, between us./Rose was startled when a reply was finally ventured.  “Leave them alone!” the Doctor spoke for the first time; as if mention of Martha’s proximity had spurred him to give voice to his fears.The pleased expression on the Master’s prissy face turned smug.  “Oh, but you see… I can’t, is the thing.  Because you said something to them, didn't you?  On the day I took control.  What did you tell them?”The Doctor’s mouth snapped firmly shut, and he went back to his impression of deaf-and-dumb.“Hm.  Suppose I’ll just have to ask Miss Tyler, if I can locate her.  I’ve no doubts she’s creeping about as we speak, given the occasion.”  As ever, he had to dig the knife in a bit deeper.  “I’m sure if I apply the right pressure, she’ll let me know.”Give him credit; the bastard sure knew how to make a person anxious.The goad worked.  “I have one thing to say to you,” the Doctor spat, trying hard to appear unmoved.  “You know what it is.”Oddly, the Master went a bit pale; as if whatever the Doctor planned to say to him, he really, really didn’t want to hear it.  “Oh no, you don't!” he shouted, and gave the wheelchair an abrupt shove that had the Doctor rolling off to one side, to bounce haplessly against a far wall. Wincing, Rose leaned her forehead against the door she held slightly ajar, and fought to breathe slowly.  Everything in her wanted to rush out and punch that man right in the nose for his cavalier treatment of her Doctor.  /But it won’t serve anyone right now.  It’ll just ruin the plan, so hush, girl!/‘Valiant now entering Zone One airspace!’ the announcement came from the working bridge. “Ah, yes.  Let the citizens rejoice!”  The Master turned to regard the sullen, scared faces of his captives, by now lined up like little dolls along the rear wall to witness his triumph.  “Come on, people!  What are we doing?  Launch Day in twenty-four hours!  The fruits of a year’s hard work!  Just a year, and we’ve placed ourselves so that we can take control of this corner of the universe!  Isn’t that worth celebrating?  A new Seven Systems; eh, dear Doctor?”  Glaring at them all for their silence, he shifted abruptly from cheery to shouting.  “BE GLAD!”/Oh, you even think you can tell people how to feel, don’t you?  It doesn’t work that way, you prat!  You can influence us, with your precious network but you can’t control our thoughts entirely.  And I bet that brasses you right off!/As she had expected, the Jones clan flinched a tad at his roar, but were otherwise so inured to his mercurial moods that they didn’t even look all that frightened anymore.  /Thing is, you can only grind away at someone’s cortisol levels for so long before they simply don’t react anymore.  Spent too much time flooded with adrenaline.  Nothing new in it; and if you’ve faced the prospect of death on the daily, you can’t really threaten them with much more, can you?/It must drive him mad that no-one reacted as intensely to his little tantrums now as they once had.  /That it’s worn off.  You attention-whore!/He was such a ponce.  /Anyway, all it means is, we simply have to stop you before you can declare war on the galaxy!/  There had only been one ‘Seven Systems’, and it was gone.  /We don’t need to create a new one.  Don’t need anymore Time Wars!/Given that single central truth, Rose didn’t miss it when the Doctor signaled; holding three fingers against his thigh.Motivated by fear for her missing daughter, Francine caught it, nodded slightly as she slipped out of the room to communicate to the rest of their small force, under cover of getting the tea.  She’d be well motivated, if it meant distracting the Master from going after Martha./Alright, then.  Here we go./ Rose took advantage of the moving door.  Slipped out of the room with the older woman; both of them equally unnoticed and discounted.  Followed Martha’s mother out of the lift, and with a solemn nod exchanged, crept round the walls to avoid the cameras, heading for the brig.  By now, Francine would be repeating the signal to Clive, who was likely mopping the deck in a corridor somewhere.  He was forced to work as a sort of ship-wide janitor, along with his dish-washing duties.  He never slept, either, the place was so massive.  Anyway, he had more freedom of movement, because of it  He would pass the signal on to Tish, as she took a meal to Jack. Rose made it downstairs just as Jack was updated that they were a go.  As he had been since they’d been caught, he stood chained to his posts, ‘enjoying’ his scant breakfast as it was spooned into his mouth by Martha’s patient sister.  “Morning, Tish.  Ah, smell that sea air.  Makes me long for good old British fish and chips.  Yeah.  What do I get?  Cold, mashed swede.  Some hotel.  Last time I book over the Internet.”/I really don’t get how he’s still so jaunty, with everything./  Jack was an endless wellspring of impossible energy.As she fed him, Tish gestured to him with three fingers against the side of the dirty container.  Jack winked at her; which he could get away with, since he winked at everybody no matter his physical state./So, we’re on, then./  Everyone in their small cadre of operatives was a go.  /No hitches, no reason to leave off./It took her some studious, slow, deep-breathing to stay calm till go-time.At not-quite-three PM, Rose snuck back up to the pseudo-bridge behind a couple of the Master’s honour-guard, who had as a body become a bit too self-assured themselves of late, felt they couldn’t possibly be fooled anymore.  They weren’t nearly as watchful as they had been half a year ago.  And despite their consistent failure to bring a single sneaking girl to their lord’s attention, they appeared to find it ludicrous that anyone could possibly stage any sort of coup up here at ground zero.  /Another one of those moments where a Time Lord so impresses the sad little apes that they can’t imagine he can ever fail.//But knowin’ it… we can use that!/ She made use of the distractions, as well, that came of the moving about of film-cameras and the like.  It was almost time for the Master’s regular broadcast to his myriad subjects.  If they could take him down right then, they could commandeer his camera crew and announce to the world that their enslavement was over. It was a small hope, but what was any of this but a vain exercise in desperate optimism? As Rose snuck off to hide inside her usual cupboard, to peep out in case they needed her aid, she had time to consider the layout of the vast room.  Scanning it at least helped to keep her from losing her mind while she waited.  /I can plan my approach./ Her part in this wasn’t to come till nearly at the end.  It left her a lot of time to rein herself in and to try to control her survival responses so that she could remain keen for long enough to be in fighting trim when her time finally arrived.At one point she found herself contemplating the watch, which was now housed up on the dais where the Master could smile on it at any given moment.  /Does that thing have any origin?  Or is it like the one in that film, Somewhere In Time, where it just gets passed back and forth from one of them to the other?/  The fob-watch was like the symbol of the whole paradox, to Rose’s mind.  /Yeah, he could have found it in the TARDIS, but then the timeline didn’t work, did it?  Did he get it somehow during the Time War?  Who had the bloody thing first?  And how the hell did he end up with it?/Didn’t matter right now, anyway.  /I have to look sharp./  Her part in this was to dash out and let Clive and Jack in once the attempt was underway.  To unlock the code-sealed lift, bring them to this level to help.  /If they can get free at all./  Right now, Martha’s father was stuck cleaning belowdecks; which was a big loss, since he was a burly sort with vast strength to mine, despite a year of underfeeding.  He might make it up to the scene of the crime with Jack, if they got close enough to one another for the former to free the latter.  /Hope so, since without those two, this whole thing’s doomed to failure./Who knew what the Master would do to them if they were caught.  Probably wouldn’t be pretty, though.The prick of the hour entered right on time from his executive suite.  “Ahh, Yes.  Time for my massage.  Who shall I have today?”  Glancing round the chamber, his glittering, arrogant eyes lit on Tanya, the girl he’d abducted from Russia to fulfill his apparently rampant sexual appetites.  “Come on, sweetheart.  Lucy, have you met Tanya?  She's gorgeous.”The way he liked to twist the knife with everyone had to end up being his downfall, right?  One thing to behave like ye average dictator, raping and pillaging his way through the copious numbers of sycophants who would purposely seek out his attentions in hopes it would serve them well, gain them access.  Sure, Tanya might just be one of the few who had sold themselves to him in order to gain a pardon for a loved one—not that he was likely to actually offer it once he got what he wanted.  That, or she was impressed by his power and went willingly.  No way to know.  But the way he felt he had to wave each successive conquest in his wife’s face, as if to prove that no-one was safe or an exception… /Judging from the sick look on her face, she might even join us one of these days, out of sheer jealousy./Twisting the knife still further, the Master held out his arm to his newest favourite; urging her to join him as he settled down for his daily massage.  “Tanya, when we go to the stars, I'm going to take you to the Catriga Nova.  Whirlpools of gold.”Lucy’s nauseous look turned deadly at this implication that after all she’d suffered, he might choose to carry someone else with him during his victory lap round the galaxy.“You two should get to know each other,” the Master prattled on as Tanya set to work.  “That might be fun.”God, he was awful.  Disgusting, evil…  /And I’m willin’ to bet, knowing another of his species the way I do, that it’s not the sex he enjoys so much as the option to use it as a weapon against others./  Everything this jackass did seemed like a twisted parallel to the Doctor.  It would make sense that where the latter used intimacy as a bridge to understanding, the former would use it as fuel for his insane ego.  /He absolutely thrives on winding people up.  Look how it’s working with Lucy!/  She’d likely thought, once, that her special position had guaranteed her immunity.  /Has to be doubting that now, though.  All her sacrifices, all her pain, for nothing in the end./Downstairs, Jack would hopefully be getting freed, by now.  Taking out guards, et cetera.  Clive would hopefully be interfering with the electric, as well, which would, one hoped, create a bit of confusion upstairs. Right on cue, the tannoy set off a claxon  ‘Condition red!’Tensing under the eager Tanya’s fingers, the Master shot up.  “What the hell?”‘Repeat, condition red!’Before he could react further, Francine jumped in.  Grabbed up his discarded suit-jacket, and tossed it to a waiting Tish below the short ladder.  She immediately handed it off to the Doctor, who moved with more speed and strength than most would credit, given his hunched-over, wheelchair-bound state.  Dug in the pockets, looking for that one thing that might save them all.Rose held herself in readiness.  Her job in all this was, one, to employ the stasis generator she still happened to have in her pocket to keep the commandos out of it, and then to race out once the Doctor used the purloined screwdriver.  To help them take custody of the Master in the brief moment that he was down; struggling either to hold back an untimely regeneration, or just staggering with the impact.  She, Francine, and Tish would pin him, the Doctor would use the laser screwdriver to reverse what had been done to him.  Once that was accomplished, they could with Jack and Clive’s help drive the loyalists to the brig and lock them up; then hustle the beaten ruler of Earth down to the TARDIS.  Destroy the paradox machine bits, and sequester him in there for future reference.  /And hopefully, that’ll be the end of it./It all seemed to be going well so far.  The Doctor was even gaining his feet.  Rose held her breath as he tottered to a standing position, the Master’s laser screwdriver held outstretched and unwavering.“Oh, I see,” the Master commented, sounding alarmingly unflustered by this mortal threat./Why isn’t he afraid?/  The tables had most assuredly turned, but for some reason he seemed totally unconcerned about it.“I told you,” the Doctor insisted, speaking for maybe the third time since the overthrow.  “I have one thing to say.”To all their massed horror, the Master merely laughed at them.  Chortled, really, like this was all terribly amusing.  Which reaction made a lot more sense when a look of dread and confusion hit the Doctor’s aged face.  He shook the screwdriver once, and then again, horror spreading. /Oh, shit.  He can’t get it to work!/Well, there went that plan.  /Now what?/“Isomorphic controls,” the Master informed him obligingly, then stepped down like the triumphant prat he was, ripped the thing from the Doctor’s wavering grasp… and punched him right in the face.  “Which means they only work for me,” he growled as he knocked the Doctor down like a ninepin.  “Like this!”  He spun and angled a laser shot right over Francine’s head.  It was a very clear, ‘next one goes through your eye’.  “Say sorry!” he bellowed at them./Oh, God…/Falling to the floor, bowing her head in terror, Francine, this proud woman, muttered apologies to the floor.  “Sorry.  Sorry.  Sorry.”“Mum!” Tish screamed.He might shoot any one of them with that thing.  The thought of it; of losing even one of their brave crew of fighters, had Rose hyperventilating.  /He might kill the Doctor!/ It was too late, and she knew it; but she was moving before she knew what she was doing.  Out and running straight for the enemy, zapping the soldiers as she passed to keep them locked in place.  No way she was going to let him kill anyone if she could stop it!  /I’m ‘hold back in case of emergency; and I think this counts!/Her efforts were foredoomed to failure as well, though.  Dodging shots from the laser, the Doctor screaming at her to get out, from where he lay sprawled on the floor, she made it nearly to the Master… only to be tripped up by an impossibly pale Lucy Saxon, damn her.Which was when the bastard of the hour lunged, with speed that belied his casual behaviour, and pinned her to the carpet.  “Oho; here she is!  The faithful concubine, come to fight for her Time Lord lover!  And just in time to give me a new bit of enrichment for my rather boring existence!” /Fuck me./  All she’d managed to do was let him flush her out, finally.*   *   *

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FIVE:
The Master had her pressed down so deep into the thick pile of the oriental rug beneath her face that she was breathing in dust mites and the lot.  Meanwhile the soldiers, freed from their stasis, converged on her allies to take them into custody.  /We failed.  Utterly.  Dammit!/“Hm,” the wanker muttered into her ear; a furious, driven, spittle-flecked denunciation.  “What shall I do with you, now I have you?  You’d be an ever-so-helpful lever to use against him, wouldn’t you?”/Oh, God…/  With all her efforts to help, Rose had only managed to make this worse.From where she lay, she could catch only the tiniest glimpse of a sliver of the Doctor’s face where he, too, lay prone on the rug, groaning with defeat.  One beloved eye, a bit of withered cheek, and that was all.  But it was enough for her to recognise the naked terror on his face; all for her.  For what this very personal enemy of his might do to her in the name of driving him mental. He had fiercely opposed her participation in all this, though he must have known she wouldn’t listen.  That she couldn’t allow this lot to strive for such a worthy goal without her aid.  /But he knew.  That if it failed, and he caught me… then the whole point of his sending me off would be lost./It seemed he had been right all along.  That she would in the end be used against him, whether-or.  “What do you think, Doctor?” the Master was saying now, eyes flickering smugly between Rose’s motionless face and his.  “Shall I seduce her in front of you?  Make you watch?  That might be fun.”Despite the down-in-the-bone terror of such a prospect, Rose found herself insanely aware of all the other sensory input around her.  Adrenaline spiking, she thought she even heard Lucy make a sound like she was both enraged, and as if she had been simultaneously punched in the gut.  /Yeah.  Pays you out for tripping me, you bitch./  Still, the Master should be a bit more careful.  /One of these days she’s gonna turn on you, you keep flaunting your appetites in her face, you insufferable twat!/If Lucy ever did snap, they would have to make use of it for sure!  /And by now I think she owes us!/As per usual, the Master paid his long-suffering wife no mind.  “If, say, I was to fondle her in front of you, Doctor; your little pet…  How would you react?” The Doctor was already struggling to rise, pushing up on withered arms to find his knees.  The Master didn’t allow him the time to complete the maneuver.  “Hmm.  She smells quite nice, doesn’t she, for a woman who’s been on the run for six months planetside, and then darting about my ship for half a year, making a nuisance of herself…”  Grossly, he sniffed at her… then to her disgust, trailed his tongue along the shell of her ear; like some sort of ravening snake sniffing out a pulse.  “Been making use of my facilities when I’m not looking, have you?”She might honestly vomit.  Tried for rebellious.  “Yeah, about that.  You know, your troops are pretty shit, for all they’re your best.  You ever consider a few training initiatives?  I’ve been showering in their head for months now, when they’re off patrolling, and they never once noticed!”  /Granted, it helps to have the Joneses informing me as to shift-change schedules and the like, but given they’re mostly posted on the barracks walls as well…/“I’ll have to keep that in mind.  Now, to business.”  Sitting back, squarely on her bum with his hand pinning her down at the neck, he tilted his head a bit so that she could see him out of her strained periphery.  “What say we retire to my boudoir, so I can see what he sees in you?  I’d truly love to know why he finds you so appealing, because honestly, I just don’t get it.”/Oh, colour me devastated that you don’t fancy me./ To one side, having gained his knees, the Doctor moaned her name again, terror limning every letter.  And he wasn’t the only one to fear the current situation.  The last thing Rose wanted was to be raped by this disgusting filth, obviously.  “No offence,” she ground out, trying for distraction, “but I don’t find you all that attractive, either.”“Interesting,” the Master mused, sitting back on his haunches with a hand still pressed like a yoke to her nape.  “Then why are you with him?  A human ape with a Time Lord.  You must be in awe of him!”/Oh, wow./  He really didn’t get it, did he?  “Is that all you think about?  How we should worship your every move because you’ve looked into the Untempered Schism?  Whoop-de-doo.”  If there was one thing she could be quite easily, it was withering and dismissive to self-important prats.  “You’re not that great, you know.  I’ve seen into the Vortex as well; and while you went mad—obviously!—I’m still here lookin’ you in the eye.  So what do you think that means, for an ape like me?”It was a fine line, keeping him interested in the conversation, without brassing him off enough that he went on with his diabolical plans out of rage that she remained unbowed in the face of his ‘genius’.  /He’ll want to do it just to prove himself superior to us all.  But if I keep him talkin’…/No one around the room wanted to watch what he planned to do to her, but certainly the Doctor would lose his bloody mind.  /Would it give him the strength to try again, though?/  If so, the prick’s state intent might actually be a helpful goad the other way round.  /Granted I can fight him off in the end.  He’s not such a large man.  Wonder if it affects them the same as human blokes to get a nice knee in the stones./  If so, he wouldn’t be, ah, capable for a while, after, anyroad./Probably kill me.  Be fun, though./Like the others, Rose no longer found the prospect of death all that alarming.  She’d been looking it direct in the face for a year, if not more, after all.“Yes, there is that,” the Master agreed, sounding intrigued.  “You’ve seen the Heart of the TARDIS and come out intact.  There must indeed be more to you than meets the eye!  Hm.”  His grasp tightened on her neck, pressing her so hard to the floor that she nearly choked from the pressure of it.  “Maybe I can find out in a most enjoyable way.”Reaching out with his free hand, he drew a fingernail down along her face; gouging in, drawing blood.  Then, lifting it, he licked at the gout.  “Hm.  Doesn’t taste like much.  But maybe, with a bit of coaxing…”  A broad, self-satisfied grin showed in his voice.  “It’s far more fun when they fight you; did you know that, Doctor?”/I’m right, then.  It’s not the sex that drives him; it’s the power dynamic./  Well, she could disabuse him of that one right now.  “Do you actually think I’m afraid of you?  You’re beneath me—a stupid ape—because I see you for what you are.  A fraud who has to abuse everyone around him to prove to himself that he’s a higher being, because deep inside, he knows he isn’t.”  She found it in her dry mouth to spit on the carpet before her.  “You’re a laughingstock.”Predictably infuriated at her dismissal, he yanked her up by her hair, a knee pressed to her back.  Arched impossibly far, every muscle straining, tendons screaming, spine creaking, Rose lost her breath.  Still, she found it in her to hiss in disgust when he bit her throat like some sort of foul ferret or something.  “I’ll have you; right in front of him.  Invite him in to watch; and then we’ll see who’s on top, won’t we?  Who’s the better one!”To one side, the Doctor had managed to scramble to his feet, whistling like a teakettle.  Ignoring him, the Master got off her; but only long enough to flip her over before kneeling once more; one on either side of her now, laser screwdriver driving hard into her throat, hand still firmly and painfully tangled in her hair.  “Yes.  I think this is going to be a lot of fun!  Maybe I’ll make it part of the broadcast, since so many people down there are counting on you and Miss Jones.  They see it, they’ll all give in en masse!  Hm; yes, that’ll be a lovely one-two punch…”As he prattled on, carried away with the big picture, she cocked back her arm and launched a solid punch right in his face; with all her terror and fury and hate behind it.  /For all of us.  For Lucy, even; and for the Doctor./  He might kill her for it, but…The direct hit rocked him back, and he dropped her abruptly, staggering.  “OHO!  This one’s full of spice!” he roared, coming to his feet again.  Far from outraged, he actually seemed amused; even fascinated.  “I’m going to enjoy breaking this one!”  In one quick stride he was back on her, shoving her down on her back on the floor.  “Mmm; so tasty.” /Well, fuck./  He was clearly turned on by the prospect; as if her refusal to kowtow to him had him even more motivated.  /Seems I’ve miscalculated a bit./ To say she was beginning to worry was an understatement.Out of her periphery, she met the Doctor’s eye.  He was staggering over; still a few feet away but gaining slowly, tears leaking from his eyes.  He was, of course, halted by the soldiers who, the stasis generator having long since worn off, were able to move once more.  Held tight in their grasp, his arms locked behind his back, he could only glare, every ounce of him filled with legible dread. /I’m sorry./  It was the first time they had seen one another in a year.  Seemed pretty regrettable that this is how their reunion had gone. “Hm.”  Grossly, the Master ran a finger down along her wounded cheek, over the slope of her bruised breast.  “I wonder.  Should I invite him into my suite to watch, or…”“Sir,” one of the cameramen dared to interrupt.  “You’re supposed to be on the air, you know.  It’s been announced.” This diffident interruption briefly dragged the Master’s volatile irritation in another direction.  Rose let out a relieved breath at the distraction, and wondered if he’d simply kill the man for getting in the way of his dramatic production. “How dare you…” the Master began, already fishing out his screwdriver. /There’re still good people in this world./  The fellow clearly didn’t much want to watch a rape happen right in front of him, and had thus dared to protest in this most businesslike fashion.  /Thank you./“The people might, ah, lose faith if you don’t keep your schedule, sir,” the bloke added almost diffidently.  Looking death in the eye without blinking; because by now, no one was at all unfamiliar. /Everyday heroes./This reminder that he had a whole planet to manage appeared to recapture the Master’s attention.  “Yes.  I suppose if I wish to truly enjoy this, I’ll want the leisure to do so.  Alright.”  Dropping Rose like a rag-doll, he gestured to a couple of soldiers with empty hands.  “Hold her.  And get that stasis generator from her pocket!”  As they rushed over to obey, he ran another disgusting finger over her lips.  “I have to make an announcement first.  Just hold on a tick, and I’ll be right with you.”  Straightening his waistcoat, he shrugged a bit to settle his jacket.  “Have to let my adoring public know that I’ve flouted an attempt to overthrow me, don’t I?  Yes, yes, I think I do.  Alright.”  Patting his hair back into place, he started toward the little stair to his dais.  “Just hold her.  I’ll want her to hand, after.”As he passed the Doctor, he gave the rickety old man a hard shove, toppling him helplessly back into his wheelchair.  He landed there, breathing hard; askew and impotent.  “Boy oh boy, what a mess, huh.  There you go, Gramps.  Oh, do you know, I remember the days when the Doctor—oh, that famous Doctor—was waging a Time War, battling Sea Devils and Axons.  He sealed the rift at the Medusa Cascade single-handed…”  A broad, satisfied grin.  “And look at him now.  Stealing screwdrivers, unable to even stop me from enjoying one of his chosen followers.  How did he ever come to this?”  A little, mocking salute.  “Oh yeah.  Me.”/You just go on being impressed with yourself/ Rose thought, still catching her breath.  /We’ll get you, eventually./  The interruption was, of course, exceedingly well-placed.  Relief was short-lived, of course, but…  /Maybe Jack and Clive are still free, down there.  What if…/“First things first, of course,” the Master interrupted her thoughts, and rounded on Tish and Francine, who had been held this entire time, forced to watch as one of their own was accosted.  “As to the rest of you.  Didn't you learn anything from the blessed Saint Martha?  Siding with the Doctor is a very dangerous thing to do.  Take them away!”The guards who weren’t on Rose closed around the two cowering women, marching them off to be punished for their crime.  Might end up pegged up beside Jack in the brig, if he hadn’t managed to avoid detection till now.  /And given neither of them made it up here, it seems the most likely scenario./As the lift doors closed on them, their pallid, khaki faces and staring eyes left little to the imagination.  They were terrified for Rose.  /As well they might be./Urgent now, the Doctor fought to regain the Master’s undivided attention.  “I just need you to listen.  You want me, not…”“And I have you!  Isn’t it wonderful!”  Mounting the steps to his dais, the Master looked as egotistical as he ever had.  “But for now, hush up, alright?  I have a broadcast to make!”  His grin widened, becoming something near to a rictus.  “Revenge!  Best served hot.  And this time, it's a message for Miss Jones!”/Oh, God…/  How would Martha respond to hearing this, on the eve of realising all their long months of painful effort?  Would the people they had spent a year nurturing and encouraging fail at the last minute when they saw that even a core group of resistance fighters right here on the Valiant had failed to bring the Master to justice? This broadcast now had double the meaning for this asshole.  /Our last-ditch effort to stop him before he launches, and we’ve failed.  He’ll want the world to know it!/“On in five, four, three…” one of the production team called, fearful and with a shaking voice. “…And, we’re on the air!”“My people!”  This prick still sounded like he thought they should all thank him for being so magnanimous as to allow any of them to live on as his slaves.  “Salutations on this, the eve of war!”/Yeah; not if we can help it!/  They simply couldn’t allow him to take his shiny new fleet to the stars.  His maniacal highness was insane, and the universe could in no way afford a renegade Time Lord with conquest on his mind.  /We have to stop him.  Somehow!/“I’ve only just thwarted another ill-advised attempt on my life.”  The florid speech abruptly devolved into a sort of mad rant.  “When are you idiots going to realise that you can’t fight me?  That you cannot beat me!  That I am all-powerful!  That I am above all of you; Master of your very existence, lord over your every breath?  That you exist merely and solely for my entertainment?  I mean,” he added, waving a hand round his head like he was simply baffled that anyone would try, “don’t you get that you exist at my whim alone?  Honestly!  Just bend over and enjoy it!”Despite her exceedingly precarious position, Rose found it in herself to snort at this arrogant speechifying.  /Wow.  He’s really very impressed with himself, isn’t he?/Ignoring her interruption, he went in for the gusto.  “Now, I know there's all sorts of whispers down there,” the pillock went on, smug as all hell.  “Stories of a child, walking the Earth, giving you hope…”/A child, is it?/  Rose supposed that they all seemed like children to Time Lords, but still.  /Ugh.  Can you be any more condescending?/“But I ask you!” the sonofabitch blagged on, like he hoped he could destroy all that carefully-cultivated hope in one mass-broadcast, “how much hope has this man got?”Rose held her breath from where she stood, held tightly under guard.  The way he jerked the Doctor about, dragging his wheelchair into the camera’s range, was awful.  The way his had rocked on his weary old neck, the way his whole body bobbled like it had no strength, slumped in the chair, was…God.  It hurt.  /He used to be so full of life!  And now…/“Say hello, Gandalf!” the Master went on, cheerfully because he took nothing seriously but his own ego.  “Except he's not that old; he's an alien with a much greater lifespan than you stunted little apes.  But what if it showed?”/Oh, God; not again!/But it seemed that, yes… he was about to do it again.  Likely because in the end, he blamed the Doctor for the entirety of their recent, failed attempt.  “What if I suspend your capacity to regenerate?” the self-satisfied asshole blathered on.  “All nine hundred years of your life, Doctor.  What if we could see them?”It was a horrifying prospect.  Rose found herself struggling impotently against the rough hands holding her; a mad attempt to fight her way free, leap at him again as he lifted his laser screwdriver, adjusted the settings… then leveled it at the Doctor once more.  /You’re angry at us, not him!  Use me against him; not vice versa!/But she couldn’t get free, couldn’t stop the nightmare.  /NO!/Watching those horrific convulsions again, with no way to stop them, was agonising.  Worse, the way they went on, and on, and on some more; like he would never stop.  “Older and older and older.  Down you go, Doctor.  Down, down, down the years...”Finally, when it seemed it might never stop, the bastard lifted the screwdriver.  The convulsions came to an end… but when they did, the Doctor was no longer sitting in the wheelchair.  Lying at the foot of the vacant mobility aid, his clothes had settled like a deflated balloon.  /Has he… died?/It was both relief and horror when, with a twitch of the empty suit lying there, a tiny creature emerged from the collars of his shirt; something with massive eyes and an endlessly wrinkled visage.  /What the hell?/Seeing all those nine hundred years all hit at once was the hell of a mind-fuck.  /To know how old he really is./ Not that she loved him any less for it, but god, it was painful to look at him like this! The Master gave it a little time to percolate, then, “Received and understood, Miss Jones?”The broadcast was abruptly ended.  /Right.  I get it.  This was an exhibition.  He knows we’re talkin’ up the Doctor, if he doesn’t know why.  He wants the world to know there’s no reason to hope./“Well.  That was fun!”  Turning back to the rest of the room, the Master eyed the bank of fearful camera-operators.  “Citizens rejoice!” he insisted to them, as if he might punish them if they didn’t do exactly that.  “Your lord and master stands on high, playing track three!”  With a gesture to someone off to one side, he then held out his hand to the wan, bruised Lucy.  As “I Can't Decide” poured out of the myriad speakers of the bridge, he yanked his unprotesting bride into a dance.  “I think it’s time we celebrated, don’t you?”/I wouldn’t have chosen the Scissor Sisters, you complete bellend, but alright./Rose was frankly more interested in watching Lucy’s face, in an attempt to gauge her reaction to all this recent fracas with her madman of a bloke.  And judging from her expression… she was more than a little shaken over the terrible outcome of her poor choice, earlier.  /Not that I’m surprised.  She plainly gets a smack every time she dares question him; and likely he’s raped her dozens of times by now.  But she still seems weirdly possessive of his attention, as well.  Probably because it’s all that’s keeping her alive, and she knows it; that she’s useful to him.  Even if it’s only as his punching bag and regular sexual conquest.  And she’s got to be afraid by now that he’s so visibly losing interest./Knowing the man’s repellent appetites, likely that was more than anything due to the fact that she had so entirely given up.  /No fight left in her, so he’s bored with her.  Does that help us, though?  If it no longer serves her to stick to his side, if she has no guarantee anymore of immunity…/ Maybe they could in fact recruit Lucy to help them, in the end. Now that the broadcast had signed off, the Master let himself be briefly diverted with the task of shaming the conspirators, because if there was one thing that Time Lords appeared to have in common, it was a tendency toward distractibility.  “You have the men?” he asked of his bodyguards once his manic song choice wound to a close.“Yes, my lord.  They’re chained in the brig.”Well, so much for Jack and Clive. “Excellent.  Bring the women in.”A few minutes later saw the full audience back up on the flight deck.  There was a brief scramble for some sort of kennel, so that he could have the tiny creature that was all that was left of the Doctor penned inside a sort of bird’s cage and set to one side atop an empty table.  Once that was done, Jack and Clive were brought up to behold his great moment, because the Master’s boundless ego demanded nothing less.  They were precariously chained to one wall; forced to bear witness to his triumph. None of the women were bound, of course, because deep inside, he thought them useless.  /And may it bite him in the ass!/ Granted, for the moment Rose was something of an outlier.  She wasn’t tied up, but unlike the other ladies she remained under guard; pressed to the same wall to one side of the men, unable to act. “Alright; that’s better, isn’t it?  What do you think, Doctor?” The Doctor just glared out of his painfully large eyes; likely afraid that any reply at all would be taken out on his allies.  /On me./In her attempts to free him, it appeared that Rose had only managed to keep him even more heavily enchained.  /He won’t dare another uprising.  Not if I’m to pay the price.  Unless he does it to save me from…/ Her mind shied away from what they all knew the Master intended, once he got round to it.  He was probably busy planning the most theatrical methods, first.  /And then…/She could only hope at this point that the Doctor was also furiously planning.  That despite their defeat and his incredibly wizened form, he might come up with one of his miraculous saves yet once more.  That he had been motivated to go beyond anything they had ever yet seen from him.  /It seems like it might be our only hope, anymore./  Because the damnable thing of it was… they still had nearly an entire day left before the count wound down.At Rose’s side, Francine was muttering imprecations, full of fury.  “I'm going to kill him, if I have to wait a hundred years.  I'm going to kill the Master.”“Francy…” Clive moaned under his breath; a dire warning.  “Hush!  Don’t make it worse!”Martha’s mother paid him no mind.  “One day he'll let his guard down.  One day.  And I'll be there.”Her spirit appeared to knock Clive out of his petrified state.  His eyes narrowed, glancing from her to Tish, then over to Rose.  “No, that's my job.  I'll swear to you, I'd shoot that man stone dead.” He seemed the sort who would try, in order to protect the women around him.  Rose dearly hoped he wouldn’t get himself killed on their behalf.  That none of them would.  /For one, it’d break Martha’s heart.  For another, it’d break the Doctor’s./  Not that she wanted to be made an example of in turn, but…“I'll get him,” Tish surprised her by joining in, in full solidarity.  “Even if it kills me.”“Don't say that!” her mother moaned, suddenly petrified again.“No; I mean it.  That man made us stand on deck and watch the islands of Japan burning.  Millions of people.  And now he wants us to stand here and watch him rape someone?  No!  I swear to you, he's dead.”/Oh, God; this is all goin’ so wrong!/The Master, marching across the floor at the head of the room.  Gave the bird-cage a shove as he passed that had the Doctor’s tiny form sprawling on the floor of the straw-strewn kennel.  Reached his waiting bride, held out a hand. Visibly afraid to decline, Lucy let him reel her in.  She wore a glamorous red dress today, in honour of the earlier broadcast, but she certainly didn’t look like a happy little wife any longer.  /Nor yet a powerful woman, First Lady of the entire world./But then, in reality, her position was just as precarious as all of theirs.  In her quest for special treatment, all ‘Harry Saxon’s wife had earned for herself was suffering and an unending terror.  That she might be next, if she put a toe wrong, or denied him anything.  /God, I couldn’t imagine being trapped with him for a year like that!  More than; up to two and a half of them!  Subject to his attentions, stuck currying favour and playing up to his hideously over-developed ego!  Ugh!/“It’s all within our grasp, my dear,” the Master was saying, loudly for all their benefit.  “Tomorrow, they launch.  We're opening up a rift in the Braccatolian space.”/Oh, shit.  Not even our galaxy.  Others; using the rift.  Oh, God…/ It made a demented sort of sense.  If he attacked any nearby empires, they might be close enough to strike back.  /But the Braccatolians are miles away!  They won’t even see it coming!/As if reading her mind, the Master smirked nastily, fully self-impressed again.  “They won't see us coming.  It’s kind of scary.”From the cage, the Doctor called out, his voice surprisingly strong despite the state of him.  “Then, stop.”The Master, of course, utterly blew him off.  “Once the Empire is established, and there's a new Gallifrey in the heavens, maybe then it stops.”  He went constipated in the face for a second, drifting minutely towards distraught.  “The drumming.  The never-ending drumbeat, driving me on...”/Oh, c’mon; this again?/“…Ever since I was a child.  When I looked into the Vortex; that's when it chose me.  The drumming; the call to war.”  He tilted his head, like he thought his madness audible to them all.  “Can't you hear it?  Listen; it's there now.  Right now.  Tell me you can hear it, Doctor.  Tell me.”Despite everything, the Doctor managed to look a little sad for this lost fellow of his.  “It's only you.”The pronouncement had its effect.  The Master blinked over at him, and looked very briefly worried before his usual haughty air reasserted itself.  “Good.  Now then…”Before he could launch into another bout of nonsense, a sphere came soaring into the room.  “Tomorrow, the war!” it called in a feminine voice.  “Tomorrow we rise, never to fall.”The Master half-turned to gesture toward the cage once more.  “You see?  I'm doing it for them!  You should be grateful.  After all; you love them so very, very much.”/Please.  Just tell us what they are, finally!/  How could the Doctor love these things?  He didn’t even recognise them!“You must have realised by now.  I took Lucy to Utopia!  A Time Lord and his human companion.  I took her to see the stars.  Isn't that right, sweetheart?”Lucy’s expression went haunted as she answered.  “Trillions of years into the future, to the end of the universe.”/Oh.  She’s from here after all, then./  Knowing it, Rose was even more confused than she had already been.  /Why, girl?  Just… why?/The Master, of course, appeared satisfied with her continued capitulation, seeking from her even further adulation.  “Tell him what you saw.”/Like a black hole.  A never-ending need for recognition.  What a ponce./“Dying,” Lucy answered, eyes staring into something horrific that none of them could see.  “Everything dying.  The whole of creation was falling apart, and I thought, there's no point.  No point to anything.  Not ever.”/Ohhhh.  That’s how he hooked her!  He surgically removed all her hope.  Left her with nothing./In the end, if you really thought about it, it was how any of his sort operated.  /Take away any credence in alternative options.  Isolate, attack, attack, attack.  Never let up, till they give in and believe it all.  God, he’s horrid!/The Master turned from her back to the Doctor; standing there, clinging desperately to the bars of his hutch.  “And it's all your fault.  Oh, you should have seen it, Doctor.  Furnaces burning.  The last of humanity, screaming at the dark.”  Like he was savouring the dreadful image of it.  “All that human invention that had sustained them across the eons?  It all turned inwards.  They cannibalised themselves.”Distracted by the question of Lucy, Rose picked up on what he had implied extremely belatedly.  /Oh, God.  All those people we helped to escape?  They did that?/“We made ourselves so pretty,” the hovering sphere trilled.“Regressing into children,” the Master added cheerfully.  “But it didn't work.  The universe was collapsing around them.  My masterpiece, Doctor.  A living TARDIS, strong enough to hold the paradox in place; allowing the past and the future to collide in infinite majesty.”Finally, she had an explanation for why the paradox machine was needed in the first place.  And yet, she still couldn’t quite credit it.  /That can’t be right, though!  The spheres can’t be people!  All those refugees?/  For one, there certainly hadn’t been six billion humans left on that empty, dusty world!  /Cloning?  Some sort of combination of the hive system they found on Chantho’s world?/  Not that it mattered.  There were six billion of them now.  /Would it have made any difference, if we hadn’t launched them?  Would it have instead canceled out that part of the paradox?  If they never came with him, to conquer and take over our end of the timeline?/Not that that had been the Doctor’s fault, whatever the Master told him.  There was no way he could see it from that perspective!  /We were still ahead of it.  The choice still in the way, clouding up his vision, so…  Oh, Doctor; you’ve got to know he’s wrong!  It’s not your fault!/Her heart yearned toward him; to help him as the stricken look filled his ancient, lambent eyes.  As he struggled against it; fighting for the energy to redirect the momentum.  “But you're changing history,” he protested in a tiny, shaky voice.  “Not just Earth!  The entire universe!”“I'm a Time Lord,” the Master answered, like a pompous prat.  “I have that right.”/Oh, wow./  He really didn’t get it, did he?  What being a Time Lord meant.  /And we do.  Which makes us better than him, whatever he thinks!/The Doctor didn’t try to argue with him this time, from his tiny prison.  “But even then, why come all this way just to destroy?”  This last, he addressed to the hovering sphere.“We come backwards in time all to build a brand new empire lasting one hundred trillion years.”/Oh, wow./  These things were just as mad as their lord and master was!  /Don’t you see, though?  Nothing ever lasts that long!  Notting in all Time and Space can!/“Yes; with me as their master.  Time Lord and humans combined.  Haven't you always dreamt of that, Doctor?”/Oh, for fuck’s sake, this guy…/“The human race.  Greatest monsters of them all!”  He turned away from the Doctor, and very unfortunately, his attention was captured once more by Rose where she stood, backed up against the far wall.  “And whatever Martha Jones is doing down there, I’ve got one of their glorious leaders!”  Leaving Lucy in the dust, he marched over to press himself against Rose.  She fought not to flinch away, show vulnerability as he grabbed her arms, pinned them to the wall over her head.  “Tell me, little girl… what binds you to him, of all Time Lords?” “You wouldn’t understand,” Rose gritted back.  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of shying away from his disgusting attentions.  /He’s pathetic!  I held the Vortex!  I was the Bad Wolf; saviour of the universe.  He can go suck eggs!/“Hm.”  He seemed unconvinced.  “Maybe you can teach me, hm?”  Seizing her wrist, he yanked her to his hip, out of the guards’ grasp.  “Right. Now!”Despite her best efforts to remain clear-headed and in control of herself, Rose’s instincts kicked in right about then, and she found herself tugging away from him with all her strength; likely looking the fool as she struggled to avoid him.  As, at the moment of truth, she gave him the vast satisfaction of open fear. To one side, she was vaguely aware that Clive had leaped away from the wall, striving against his bonds to come to her aid.  That Francine and Tish were screaming imprecations at the Master, that Jack was bellowing curses at him and yanking at his chains fit to tear them from the wall.  The guards closed on them, weapons held under their chins, looking at the same time disgusted and resigned.  And, out of her periphery, contained in his cage, the Doctor raged; clinging to his bars and screeching an unearthly howl that sounded like desolation made flesh.It seemed the time had come. They were nearly to the door when the tannoy made an announcement at the most wonderfully opportune moment.  ‘Addressing the Master!’“Oh, what now?” the Master muttered, looking annoyed at the interruption.  Freeing a hand, he leaned over and depressed a button in the wallbox, absently fending off a punch Rose cocked at his ear.  “What?” he demanded, recapturing her freed fist like it didn’t at all matter.‘Sorry to interrupt, my lord, but beg to report; Martha Jones has been located below.  She is in slave housing in London!’/Oh, fuck!/  Today really wasn’t going to plan.  And given her current precarious position, it wasn’t as if she could dig out her mobile and text a warning!  /Not this time.  But it’s early; this is early!/The ringing announcement had them all frozen; including the Doctor and the Master.  The former, his face a rictus, stilled against his bars.  The latter, though, seemed infused with a new, excited, almost boyish energy.  “Oh, it’s all coming together, isn’t it?” he called, releasing Rose’s wrist to clap his hands together.  “Lovely!”  Spinning on his heel, he waved at the guards.  “Put ‘em in the brig.  I have things to see to.”  And then he was back with Rose, who couldn’t help this time but to cringe back from his foul touch.  “Such a timely interruption, for your sake.  The bonds of friendship, striking again.”  He drew a gross finger down her blood-encrusted cheek, his touch an abhorrent curse.  Dropped it to her lips, then encircled her throat with his entire hand and bore down.  “But… another time.  Very soon, I think.”  Choking, throat bruised, Rose gagged as the guards seized her once more and dragged her away with the others.  She was shoved, stumbling; not into the lift with the rest, however, but toward the private corridor leading to the Master’s suite.Thank god the bastard was already heading for his private exit out-of-doors; likely to take a shuttle from the flight deck down to personally supervise Martha’s recovery.Reprieved for the nonce, Rose’s only thought as she was driven to some future doom was, /Oh, Martha; please run!/*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

SIX:
Huddled inside the ghetto house, Martha listened to the sounds of the Master, calling to her from the street outside.  “Martha.  Martha Jones.  I can see you!  Out you come, little girl.  Come and meet your Master.”  A brief, expectant pause, then, “Anybody?  Nobody?  No?  Nothing?”  He sounded inordinately disappointed as he began snapping audible orders.  “Positions.”  Some rustling and clanking, then, “I'll give the order unless you surrender.”The threat was clear.  He intended to kill everyone in this house if she didn’t give herself up.  /Well, I guess it’s time.  Bit early, but at least I’ll be at ground zero tomorrow morning!/It had to be around midnight by now, if not later.  Which meant all she had to do, really, was to survive till a little past dawn.  /Just a few more hours, and it’s finally over.  One way or the other./She could feel Tom Milligan, there at the door, shaking his head at her, his expression torn.  He knew as well as she did that there were at least a hundred people cowering inside these four walls.  Add to that, he thought she hadn’t yet achieved her goal.  That she had one vial of potion left to procure, from the UNIT house north of the city. /I can’t tell you that the whole point was to get here, can I?  Zero hour, and the last dispatch received by the huddled masses.  To be passed on from here, directly under the Valiant, so it can be the most concentrated just below the centre of the target./Said centre ranted on outside.  “Ask yourself.  What would the Doctor do?”/I just have to hope it was enough./Throwing off the concealing, filthy, tattered blanket, Martha rose from the fragrant mass of humanity and stood.  Seeing it, Tom mouthed a pained ‘no’./I’m sorry, Tom, but it has to be done./ Too bad she hadn’t gotten to know him better.Slipping the key-slash-perception-filter from her neck, Martha headed for the door, leaving the resourceful Dr. Milligan behind to manage the people in his care.  Opened the portal, eyes on him so that he didn’t try to stop her.  Telegraphing that it was necessary, and they both knew it. And then she was outside.  The Master, chortling with unholy glee, greeted her warmly.  “Oh, yes.  Oh, very well done.  Good girl.  He trained you well.”  With a jerky gesture, he sent his devoted soldiers to her side.  “Bag.  Give me the bag.”Taking custody of her, the armoured men made to seize her burden from her very back.  She didn’t try to hang onto it, nor yet to wrestle with them.  /Just another distraction.  Let him think he’s won.  It’ll make him cocky./ “No, stay there.  Just throw it,” the Master called, as if he were actually worried about the contents.Martha shrugged and tossed her backpack towards the Master.  He promptly fired his laser screwdriver at it, blasting the materials of it to bits and boiling away the liquids inside. Martha tried not to let on as she sighed in relief.  /Good.  Now he can’t test any of it, see that it’s all a massive farce./  In case he truly believed that the remains of UNIT had found a way to take him down, it was good to know he had a few chinks in his mental armour.  /Not that he’s the most stable apple in the bushel, him./Relieved of her bullshit burden, the Master approached her, looking impossibly smug.  “And now, good companion, your work is done.”  He lifted his arm, aiming his laser next for her chest. /Oh, shit./  Somehow, she hadn’t foreseen this.  She had thought for sure that he would bring her to the Valiant; to toy with her in the Doctor’s face, so that he could worry about her, and so that she could be used against him./Well, I had a good run, either way/ she thought, fighting to compose herself in the face of a mortal threat.  After all, this wasn’t the first time she had faced down death in the last year.  /They’ll manage to trigger it without me.  Either way, it’s done.  I’ve done all I can.//Only wish I could’ve seen it pay out./Before he could zap her lifeless, though, Tom burst out of the house behind her.  “NO!”Pivoting away from Martha, the Master instead zapped Tom.  And laughed maniacally, of course, as he fell to the tarmac, stone dead. /Oh, God; Tom.  Why did you do that?/Horror gave way to rage, and she tore her gaze from the body to send it, furious, to the hated visage before her.  She didn’t speak, but he had to see it in her eyes; the fully-formed intent to see him dead, beyond regeneration.  /You deserve it, for all the lives you’ve taken since you came!  Deserve it, and then some!/Luckily, he seemed to find her wordless defiance fascinating enough, because he lowered his weapon finally, and tilted his head to one side.  “Hm.  On the other hand, when you die, the Doctor should be witness, hmm?”  With another negligent signal for the guards to take her into custody, he waved at them to bring her along.  “Almost dawn, Martha, and planet Earth marches to war.”Wrists bound with unyielding cable-ties, Martha was marched, unprotesting, to his car, and from thence to a shuttle bound for the Valiant.  /Passed the gauntlet.  Finally, I’ll be back with everyone I love./Her defeat was, in fact, her greatest triumph.  /But I can’t let him know it.  Not just yet./***Trapped like a parcel in the Master’s fancy, flash bedchamber, Rose had time to contemplate her upcoming fate as she eyed the uncomfortably near, stupidly immense four-poster, the heavy velvet draperies, the lot.  It could only take a couple of hours at most for him to go down, fetch Martha, bring her aboard… and then he’d be right back in here.  /And maybe he’ll go back to what he was doing with me as a victory lap, before he goes on with his launch./It was not at all a pleasant prospect, was it?She looked up a bit fearfully when the door opened, relaxed a bit when she saw it was only Lucy.  The battered First Lady of Earth stood there for a moment; back to the door, apparently confounded, or perhaps unsure how to move forward.  Eventually, though, her blank face cleared to reveal what lay under her standard about-to-panic-mode. Quite a number of conflicting emotions appeared to be represented there.  Disgust, hate, jealousy, resentment, and a sort of weary resignation.  “Here.  You should… clean up.  He’ll want you presentable,” she murmured, and, grabbing Rose’s bound arm, summarily dragged her toward the loo.Startled by this courtesy, Rose allowed herself to be led.  Found herself in a ridiculously posh bathroom; all marble sinks and embroidered towels and the lot.  /Like living in a Hilton./Lucy actually pried her hands loose from the cable-tie, even, employing a tiny set of forceps for the task.  As she wedged the bitty plucking edge of the thing under the closure that held her bound, “He doesn’t let me have anything bigger, in case I decide to end it, or I’d use scissors.  There.” Her hands abruptly loose, Rose massaged her wrists wordlessly to get back some circulation, ignoring the standard pins and needles of it.  Made her need to pee, though. “Go one, then,” Lucy urged her in a dead voice, and gestured toward the toilet.  “Been a while.  Then you can clean up your face.”  Her tones sounded terrifyingly uninflected as she added, “He likes it better when he has a fresh palette to start with.”Shuddering at the implications, Rose made use of the facilities, grateful for that much grace.  Moved on to the sink, Lucy giving way before her, to splash some water on her bloodied features.  “I’m surprised you’re goin’ along with this,” she ventured after a moment.  /God, I’m exhausted./  Never-ending watchfulness, massive defiance in the face of impossible odds, followed by a shot of pure existential terror took a lot out of a person.  “You have to feel territorial of him.”  /And if you do, then really, this is on your head, since you tripped me in the first place!/Lucy looked away, face pale and bruised and beaten in more ways than the visible.  “Doesn’t matter.  Nothing does.”The nihilism on display here was all very depressing.  /And yet…  Maybe I can push her even further over the edge?  If I can just find some spark of anger in her, for all she’s given up and lost to him, only to be dismissed like this for the next plaything?/  “But he promised to show it all to you, once he freed the TARDIS from that time-track./  And let’s be real; violated her as well.  Probably because he was angry that the Doctor managed to stop him doing something even worse with her./  Talk about feeling a kinship with one’s sentient vessel!  “Now he’s talkin’ about abusing me, then taking that Tanya along…”As hoped, she caught a brief flicker of slow but incandescent fury on the woman’s ashen, strained features.  /Good.  You still have some life left in you.  Let’s build on that, shall we?/  Rose wasn’t overfond of putting this woman—any woman—between herself and a madman as a shield, but given said woman seemed to want to stay there on her own merits…  /Anyway, I’m desperate./  “Isn’t that what he promised you?”  /I mean, if anyone, I know what it’s like to be told one of ‘em will show you the universe, only to have to share him.//Difference being, I was never treated the way she’s been!/  “I wouldn’t stand for it, me.  Get knocked around by him, treated like a possession, and then to be expected not to get upset when he brings along a third?”Lucy flinched, avoiding her gaze.  “It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.”/Battered woman syndrome ahoy!/  “Listen!” Rose lunged, going in for the kill.  “You deserve better!”  /Can I get you to believe that, by now?  Or has he beaten it all out of you?/  “The whole world will understand if you leave him!  And it sounds like he’ll have no trouble replacing you…”  Another wince.  She chased it like fire chased petrol.  “You deserve what he promised you, all you’ve given him!” Lucy’s angry expression slipped back a notch toward uncertain.  /Shit.  Wrong tack./  “I know you mightn’t think it, but let me tell you!  Most people couldn’t keep up with one of them.  I know it because I’ve lived it!  They’ll never understand what it takes; what you have to sacrifice!”  /Some more than others.  But lean on what she’s owed, Rose.  What she wants to protect.  What he’s giving away, to her face!/  “But you shouldn’t have to watch him just hand that to someone else, after everything you’ve done for him!  Someone who hasn’t sacrificed for it, hasn’t had to live through any of it!  Shouldn’t have to watch him play up to me just to get the Doctor’s goat; nor yet to stand by while he seduces that Tanya, maybe replaces you with her!  Not after everything!”Her inspired speech had the woman shaking her head back and forth, like she couldn’t quite dare allow herself the luxury of righteous rage.  /Just another nudge./  “You shouldn’t have to watch this!” Rose insisted, low and intense.  “Sure shouldn’t have to stand here, helping me get prettied up for his attentions, when he should be giving them to you!”  It was a gamble, given maybe Lucy here was grateful that said attentions were being spread round instead of all put on her.  But with the awareness Rose had of how intense it could be to possess the full attention of a Time Lord—if in her own case, a sane and kindly one—she was willing to wager that some twisted part of Lucy would hate to see someone else steal her top spot. /She has to be possessive of him, as well, even if she doesn’t want to feel it!/The moment hung on a thread, then Lucy broke.  “Just go.  Get out.  Hide while he’s gone; before he gets back.  Don’t come back up here!”Rose wasn’t about to ask twice.  He’d taken the suite-guards with him, once they’d locked her safely within; as a personal shield against the people below.  The others were down keeping an eye on her people.  Lucy was up here, left to her own devices; discounted and despised and, they assumed, too beaten-down to misbehave. She had to be terrified, too; of what he’d do when he came back, found his conquest flown.  /But lucky for me, she’s also terribly jealous of his attention./It was sick, but Rose would use it, because she had to.  /I just have to hope he won’t take it out on her too badly, before the end.  Hopefully today is the end!/  It had to be the wee hours, by now.  /But if I don’t get out while I still can, he will rape me, if only to drive the Doctor mad!/  By now it was obvious; everything he did was some twisted attempt to gain his fellow Time Lord’s undivided attention, his acclaim.  It was unfathomably bent of the man… and it was also visibly his main motivation.  “Thank you.”“It doesn’t matter,” Lucy answered her in a terrifyingly dead voice.  “Soon it’ll be all over anyway.”/Oh, God.  She actually hopes he’ll kill her for this./  How pathetically terrifying and awful that this woman had been driven to the point of such helplessness that she literally hoped to goad the sonofabitch to end her life for her, because it was her only visible means of escape!Feeling about to vomit, Rose snuck out of the master suite under cover of darkness, eyes sandy and prickling, head muffled with weariness, the comedown of adrenaline.  /But maybe we’ll end it before he can kill her.  And at least I’m safe.  Alive to fight another day./If she could manage to get back into the room where the Doctor lay in his cage, trembling against the bars, she would grab him up and run; but there were a few guards still left, standing watch at that door, at least.  All she could do was to flee into the familiar labyrinth below; impotent to help her man.  /So close and yet so far!/
***
The shuttle landed just as the sun was rising.  Martha was marched out under guard and promptly shoved into the flight deck’s most fanciful chamber.  /Perfect.  Excellent./It looked the same as it had a year ago, nothing in it altered.  /This is like déjà vu!/ Her eyes fell on the countdown clock, mounted beside the broad bank of viewing windows in the upper wall.  /So close.  So little time left.  Just a little longer.//Just have to drag it out a little longer!/Once inside, the Master sent one of the soldiers to go fetch ‘the Doctor’s pet’, and another to bring word that ‘the rest should be here, too, to witness our triumph’.  Martha was terribly concerned that the ‘pet’ reference pertained to Rose, since she didn’t see her friend anywhere in the room.  Got confirmation of that fact when the soldier returned, looking afraid to be the bearer of ill tidings.  “She’s, uh, gone, my lord.  Your consort was the only one in there.”/Oh, thank God./  Martha could only imagine what this wanker had intended with Rose as his captive, given the leverage she represented.  /But did Lucy let her go, or what?/The unwonted report had Earth’s despot taken aback.  An expression of such unfiltered, insane rage crossed the Master’s face, then, that for a moment he looked like he would absolutely lose it, murder everyone in the room.  “Bring her!”Lucy Saxon was dragged into the chamber, looking impossibly pale; almost colourless, and something beyond terrified.  Like she had gone out the other side of fear, and landed somewhere beyond human comprehension. As she was dragged closer to, Martha flinched inside at the sight of the many, layered bruises decorating her face.  To a doctor’s practised eye, yellow under brown under purple meant daily attentions.  /Trouble in paradise?/ she heard herself thinking in pained, caustic tones as she knelt, hands tied behind her, watching them interact.“Where is she?”Lucy lifted her chin, trembling like a leaf.  “She got away.  I was getting her washed up so she would be presentable for your attentions.  She knocked me over and got past me.”Face suffused with fury, the Master drew back his arm and gave her a titanic smack across the face that sent her sprawling, bleeding all over the same thick rug where Martha knelt.  “You’re bloody useless!” But, almost as if acting out on his favourite punching-bag had calmed his nerves, he nodded and stilled.  “Well.  It doesn’t matter!” he went on, slipping his hands behind his back to clasp them together.  “We’ll find her eventually.”  He turned back to eye Martha as the lift dinged open; to watch her as her family was escorted into the room to bear witness to what he likely thought was their final defeat.  “Look, my dear Joneses!  Martha’s back!  Jack!  Aren’t you pleased?”Mum, Dad, and Tish, standing with their backs pressed fearfully to the far wall, darted hungry glances at her.  She met their eyes, telegraphing that she was alright and scanning their faces for marks.  None were visible, thank god, so she turned her gaze to Jack.He did look damaged, of course.  His remaining clothes were in tatters, his filthy face a mass of bruises, as was his lovely, well-muscled torso.  He’d wasted a bit in the interim; likely from malnutrition.  /Not that we aren’t all there, by now./  Even her family’s faces looked a bit drawn.  But Jack’s naked flesh also bore the marks of long abuse; scars from burning, welts from whipping, the lot.  /Oh, God, Jack…/ The Master turned from them, expression gloating, to face what looked like a bird’s cage stood to one side, just below the dais.  He highlighted it with a showy gesture, as if pleased at having a new audience for his achievements.Martha flinched again when she saw that the Doctor was now housed inside the makeshift pen; stood atop an unoccupied table.  “See?  No hope left, my dear Doctor!”The tiny form, clinging to the bars, didn’t bother to give him the satisfaction of a reply.  His eyes, though, narrowed on Martha’s, were the same, and held a desperate question in them.  Seeing it, she gave the tiniest of nods, while the Master’s back was turned.Relief touched his miniature, wizened features. /Time enough.  Soon it’ll be over, either way./Turning fitfully away from his captive, the Master sighed and climbed up to pace about his dais.  Inhaled deeply, then gestured to his camera people to begin his final broadcast.  After a silent countdown, “Citizens of Earth, rejoice and observe!  The great Martha Jones; my captive!”  Lifting a declamatory hand, he held it out in a demand for booty.  “Oh, yes.  Your teleport device, in case you thought I'd forgotten.”Rising briefly for the leverage of it, Martha unstrapped it and tossed it up to him.  /Don’t need it anymore.  Don’t intend on leaving this time, you twat./Taking it, he lifted his chin, looking well-pleased.  “And now, kneel.”Martha sank back to her knees, giving him what he wanted for the nonce.  /Not time yet.  Let him drag it out to the final minute./  If they’d played all their cards right, the paradox was about to snap back.  /Please./“Down below,” the Master rattled on, self-impressed as ever and surely believing he had countered every possible move against him.  “…The fleet is ready to launch.  Two hundred thousand ships set to burn across the universe.  Are we ready?”To one side, some bloke with eyes aflame with the sycophant’s devotion, replied, “The fleet awaits your signal, Master.  Rejoice!”Pleased by the fanaticism of his cadre of followers, the Master smirked down at them all.  “Three minutes to align the black hole converters.  Counting down.”  The smirk widened to a joyous, mad grin.  “I never could resist a ticking clock.”  He glanced over at the hovering spheres by his head.  “My children, are you ready?”“We will fly and blaze and slice!”The violent chant was taken up by all the surrounding myriad; echoing all round them.  Likely all round the world.  “We will fly and blaze and slice!  We will fly and blaze and slice!  We will fly and blaze and slice!”It was still difficult to believe that those things were the refugees from the end of all things.  /God, what if he manages it?  What if we can’t break the paradox, after all?/But then, if it took the entire energy of the TARDIS to keep it in place, it had to be fragile, right?  /Because if not, then nothing makes sense!/She had to believe that Rose had been right, all those months ago.  /It’ll snap back like a rubberband being overstretched.  It’s the only response reality can make to being bent like this!/  Surely even a renegade Time Lord could only stretch Time and Space so far before it broke, or rebounded.  /And either one’s better than what he’s doing to it!/The Master’s next words jerked her from her contemplation of a madman’s physics.  “At zero, to mark this day, the child Martha Jones, will die.  My first blood.”/Oh, please.  You’ve killed millions!  Just because it wasn’t your direct hand did it doesn’t make you any less culpable!/  Martha could, of course, hope that all went according to plan, and her fate would be otherwise.  But even if she did die today, she will have done so in good cause.  /But don’t give us that first blood bullshit, you ass!/To one side, in his cage, the Doctor made a sound like the words wounded him.  Martha fought not to look at him, or at her family, standing horrified to one side.  Kept her eyes on the Master as he sidled closer; expression avid, the cameras following his every move.  “I didn’t get to have my way with the other, yet, but this’ll be nearly as good,” he pronounced, eyes glittering with malice.  Lifting his screwdriver, he jabbed it into her throat.  “Any last words?”/His ‘way’?/  Well, that was haunting.  /But she got away from you!  And I certainly won’t give you the satisfaction!/  Somehow, she wasn’t even afraid.  /If it all snaps back, I’ll be brought back.  But even if it doesn’t, I’ve done all I could, and then some./“No?”  Shaking his head, the Master made a moue.  “Such a disappointment, this one.   Doctor, you had a companion who could absorb the Time Vortex.  One who escaped my very hands!  This one's useless.”/Blah, blah, blah./  Gone were the days when Martha would take such critical words to heart.  /I’ve proven myself to my own satisfaction; done things in the last year that I never in a million years thought I could.  So fine.  Say whatever you like.  Doesn’t make it true!/It would honestly be such a joy to watch him realise that, far from being ‘useless’, she was instead about to be his downfall.  /In the end, it’s all on you, Martha Jones.  This is your fight, and no-one else’s.  And whatever he says, you’re well able to pull it off.  Doesn’t matter a whit if he believes it or not./  Thus cheered, she lifted her chin, facing the spiteful creature down with surety in her eyes.Visibly triggered now that she wasn’t showing him any fear, the Master set to blustering.  “Bow your head!”/Nah, I’m good./Fuming at her refusal to desist looking him in the eye, he returned his gaze briefly to the cameras; as if wary that they would pass on to the world below that someone dared defy him.  As if to make up the lack, he set to declaiming, like all villains tended to do; like he was in a bleeding film!  “And so it falls to me, as Master of all, to establish from this day, a new order of Time Lords…”/Ego, ego, blah, blah…/“…From this day forward.  We are only waiting for Rose, and then we can get started.  Where oh where is she?  Rose!” he called, as if she were just round the corner, hiding.  “I know you’re somewhere near!  You won’t stray far from your Doctor, will you?”Not for the first time in the last six trying, lonely months, Martha found reason to be grateful that her friend was not with her below; to be made captive at her side in this singular moment. After a second, as if let down at the lack of his last captive, the Master sighed heavily.  “Ah, well.  It doesn’t matter.  I don’t need her.  I already have control of him.”  He waved his hand indifferently in the direction of the cage, with its tiny Doctor clinging to the bars.  It really did sound, though, like he was trying to convince himself.  Like maybe he was unnerved that Rose wasn’t close.  That he didn’t know where she was.  Walking up to the far wall, he grabbed something from beside the countdown-clock, pivoted back.  “There’s nothing else I need her for.  I’ve got this lot; and when it all ends, I’ll find her, deal with her too!”He was sounding a bit manic, truth be told.  /And you should, you prawn!  It’s about to be all over for you!/As if to signal that very event, as the final countdown neared its last minutes, a guard came flying in from the lift.  “Master!  My lord!  We’ve got her!  She surrendered to us!”/Then she knows it too.  That it’s time./Hearing it, Martha sucked in a deep breath and straightened her spine.  /Well, I’ll not face it bowed or bloodied!/“Oh!  Really?  Well, isn’t that cute!  Well, don’t just stand there!  Bring her in!”  Clearly over the moon, the Master began scrubbing his hands together with resurgent glee; like a kid preparing to open gifts Christmas morning.  “Why do you think she’d do that, Doctor?  Don’t you think it means she knows my victory is inevitable?  Likely she’s heard that I’ve captured her friend Martha, and disposed of her fancy weapon!  That it’s all over for you, now!”/Actually, she knows there’s no time left for you to be an asshat, now the paradox is at its event horizon./The Doctor, though he had to be shaken, hearing Rose had been re-captured, didn’t reply.They all knew there was little enough time left.  /It’ll either go, or it won’t.  Anyroad, if he starts going after Rose again, I’ve a few choice taunts saved up to buy us time./When her Rose was brought in, she was a bit worse for wear.  She had a long, untended weal down one cheek, seeping blood, and her hair was a fright; but she didn’t look at all concerned to have been arrested.  “Hullo again!” she called, waving with her fingers at the Master.  “Well.  I tried.  Led ‘em on a nice chase!”  She turned to Martha and did a little nod, got one in return; the signal that all was prepared.  “Alright, Martha?”“I’ll do.”  The anticipation built between them; thick as porridge.Aware he was missing something and not liking it, the Master stepped between them to take up all of Rose’s—and therefore, likely the Doctor’s—attention.  “Don’t mind her.  She’s out of options.  But you must tell me; why did you run away?  We were about to have so very much fun!”Rose didn’t bother to reply.  Just leaned back, a rather pleasant expression on her face… and spat copiously, right in his ugly mug./Well, that’ll do it!/Martha half expected the agitated renegade to fly right off the bloody handle, receiving such disrespect.  Instead, though, he just stared at Rose, whilst cleaning his face off with a handkerchief drawn from his lapel pocket.  “Fascinating.”  A faint smirk made its reappearance as he watched her with not a little curiosity, and he tilted his head as if examining her for flaws.  “Even now, you flout me.  I can see what keeps him interested in you.”/Yeah, yeah; all the Time Lords find her endlessly intriguing.  But that’s alright.  That’s fine.  I have an ace up my sleeve.  You’ll learn./ She wasn’t about to be discounted for long.  But for now… it played into their hand for him to be too hung up on studying Rose to pay attention to anything else.  /Three minutes left./Knowing it as well as Martha did, Rose shrugged.  “Doesn’t take much to flout you, you know.  You’re such a weakling it’s amazing.” Abruptly infuriated, the Master grabbed her by the long, tangled mane of blonde hair, craning her head back till she was eyeing him painfully through the corners of her eyes.  “And here we are; right back where we started.  And honestly, I just. Don’t. Get it!”  Overwrought, he dragged her over to the cage; to the Doctor.  “Look!  Look at him!  That’s what you choose, over me?  An old, withered, ancient being the size of your torso, over a powerful and important man?  No TARDIS, none of it?”Rose merely watched him, like he was some sort of fungus.  “Oh, any day of the week.  Twice on Sundays.”The Master stared at him for a long moment, clearly baffled, then let her go and threw up his hands.  “Then you’ve chosen.  And here you are; with him again, as you wanted!  It’ll be nice!  You can watch him lose, and suffer; even share in it, before I destroy you all!”/That’s right; let him gloat.  He has no idea what’s about to hit him.  Granted it all goes off without a hitch, anyway./Rose remained unperturbed.  Merely reached out with one hand to thrust a couple fingers through the cage bars.  The Doctor immediately shifted over close, and laid his tiny hand over the top of them. As if drawing strength from the contact, Rose pulled herself erect and lifted her chin.  “Yeah, fine.  I’ll happily die with him, then.  Because my place is at his side, and that’ll never change!  I sure wouldn’t choose to travel with you, TARDIS or no TARDIS!”Thrown the gauntlet, the Master rolled his eyes heavenward.  Then, out of nowhere, he turned on his hovering wife.  “See, Lucy?  That’s what I want!  Unconditional admiration, total loyalty.  No betrayals, like you gave me today.”  A slow, regretful head-shake.  “And not just that; also fire!”Lucy just watched him, bruised, puffy face expressionless.  Like she had reached some massive nadir, had nothing left. “Thing is,” Rose commented thoughtfully from the side of the cage, “You’ve beaten all the fire out of her.  Taken away her choices, till she has none left, because you know without that she’d never choose to stay!”  Exhaling in loud dismissal, she shook her head dramatically.  “It’s weird.  You Time Lords always want someone to stay; to help you survive your own loneliness… but you take the cake, because when you’re offered companionship, you squander it.”Swinging back, the Master threw out a hand.  “Silence!”Rose paid him no heed.  “You want that; want someone to choose you… but you never give ‘em a reason!  Not even him; and we all know he’s the one whose attention you really want!”Provoked, the Master jerked the laser screwdriver from his breast pocket.  “I said, silence!”“Meanwhile, he does!  Don’t you understand that?  You want admiration?  Well, he’s got it and you don’t!  This teeny little Gallifreyan fraction!  How does that make you feel?”/Fuck, fuck, he’ll kill her if she keeps on.  Rose, shut up!/The Doctor could be heard to chant the same, hissing imperatively through the bars.  “Rose, don’t!  He’ll kill you.  He kills like breathing.”Standing there, on a hair-trigger, Rose’s life in the balance, Martha knew the time for distraction had come.  So, she began, most heartily, to laugh. It was, after all, quite funny, in its own way, how correct Rose was in her spirited denunciation.  /Anyway, we’ve got a minute and a half, maybe a tad more.  If we can stay alive for ninety-six more seconds…/  They had, after all, managed it back at the end of the universe. The Master was mercurial, and he wanted to use them all—especially Rose—to make the Doctor suffer.  /But I won’t let him!/  “Wow, look at this guy!  So glad the world gets to see it!  He thinks he can bring back the Time Lords’ domain, but he has no idea what that even means.”  /Mock him, get his attention.  With his fragile ego, he won’t stand for it./  “He’s no Time Lord, is he?  He’s a spoiled child with delusions of grandeur!”Pivoting back to stare at Martha over his shoulder, the Master blinked.  “Hm.  Seems they both have it.  Interesting.  Such fire.”  The distraction appeared to have worked, though, for he backed down from his hair-trigger rage.  Tossed his fancy screwdriver up, caught it, and tucked it back into his pocket.  “Well, never mind.  I’ll kill you all very slowly later.  But first, you will witness my final triumph; as I spread my glory across the stars!  Nothing left to stop me!  No esoteric weapon, left behind to save the Earth!  No…”Martha pulled out another laugh; an honest one, this time, as the triumph of it filled her to the brim.  /Eighty-two seconds./  “You really are funny.”It was a conscious choice, to parrot the words the Toclafane had said to the US President exactly a year ago.  /Will he remember it?/“Oh, please; what now?” the Master demanded, rounding on her.  “Can’t any of you annoying women shut up and let me have my moment?”Martha just went on regarding him with no small amusement.  “I mean, seriously.  A gun?”Bewildered by all the unconquered spirit going on around him, he glared fulsomely at her.  “What about it?”/Honestly, though.  I can’t believe you fell for it, too!/  “A gun in four parts?”Flummoxed, the Master frowned fitfully, like he couldn’t comprehend her cheerful demeanour.  “Yes, and I destroyed it.”  As if to say, ‘What of it?  I’ve won, don’t you get that?’“A gun in four parts, scattered across the world?” Martha taunted on, playing for time.  “I mean, come on, did you really believe that?”  /Do you really think that’s what I was doing?/ Bafflement became irritation.  “What do you mean?”Sensing the time had come, the Doctor touched Rose’s fingers one last time, then straightened to his full half-meter of height, and tilted his tiny, wrinkled head at his enemy.  “As if I would ask her to kill,” he pointed out with some disdain.The Master was clearly thrown by all their sudden assurance.  He danced away from the niggling question of it like he didn’t want to hear it, give it any credence.  “Oh well; it doesn't matter.  I've got her exactly where I want her…”/Keep him guessing.  Time’s almost up./  “I knew what Professor Docherty would do.  The Resistance knew about her son.”  /And I don’t blame her for giving me up, since it was all part of the plan.  Anyone would, in her position./  “That's why I came to find you.  Know your enemy.  I told her about the gun, so she'd get me here at the right time…”“Oh, but you're still going to die!” the Master hastened to interrupt her, flustered now./Don’t let him squirm out of it!  He’s starting to fear what we have planned.  And the people should get to hear him sounding unsure.  It’ll give them that one last push they need!/    Any last-second energy that could be added to the overall effect would be of help.  They only had one shot at this, so it absolutely had to catch.  /Good thing he’s broadcasting to the whole world right now!/  The result would hopefully be that everyone on Earth would see this minor breakdown in real time.  The longest delay she had seen from one of these emissions was three or four seconds.  /We’ve one minute.  Less than, for the world to see it, and know.  That we can actually win!/  The timing of it was perfection.  “Don't you want to know what I was doing, travelling the world?”Trapped against the wall, with cameras on him so that he couldn’t show weakness as his advantages dribbled away, the anxious Master straightened and nodded, shooting for calm and assured though it was clear he was unnerved by now.  “Tell me.”Martha looked on him in the full awareness that one way or another, they had won today.  /He knows we got inside his head.  That we’ve screwed up his moment of glory in front of all the remains of the human race.  Look at the camera-people and the soldiers, looking uncertain./ The former were staring from one to the other of them by now.  Avidly filming, and giving the impression that they were holding their breaths.  With forty-odd seconds left, they too sensed that something surprising was in the offing.  And the soldiers—those fanatical gits of his?—they were starting to edge away; from Jack and her family, toward the exits. /Keep ‘em guessing./  “I told a story, that's all.  No weapons, just words.  I did just what the Doctor said; first with Rose and then on my own.”  Well-deserved pride in her own incredible accomplishment filled her; made her soar.  /I did it.  You couldn’t stop me.  No one did!/  “I went across the continents all on my own.  And everywhere I went, I found the people, and I told them my story.”  She shot a look toward the man she had once thought had failed everyone, knowing that in this last extremity, he would, in fact, save them all.  /I believe it, too./  “I told them about the Doctor.  And I told them to pass it on, to spread the word so that everyone would know about the Doctor.”The Master appeared to regain some of his old bluster.  “Faith and hope?” he pooh-poohed her account.  “Is that all?”/If only./  “No, I also gave them an instruction, just as the Doctor said.”  /Twenty-nine seconds./  Rising to her feet, nodding at Rose, she pointed at the digital display above them, as it ticked down toward zero.  “I told them that if everyone thinks of one word, at one specific time...”As the clock ticked into the teens, Rose gave the Doctor’s tiny hand one last little squeeze, then stepped away from the cage.  He nodded approval, tiny, avid eyes still locked on the back of the Master’s head. “Nothing will happen,” the Master complained.  “Is that your weapon, then?  Prayer?”  He sounded as if he really wanted to disregard it, but couldn’t quite./Indeed./  “Right across the world!” Martha assented, firm in her convictions now.  “One word, just one thought at one moment…”  She gestured triumphantly at the skies above them as the digital clicked over to zero.  “But with fifteen satellites.”To one side, Jack suddenly realised what they were getting at.  Saw, with the rest of them, that the Doctor was beginning to glow.  “The Archangel Network!” he breathed, sounding inspired.  “Oh, Doctor; you’ve done it again!”  Like he, too, had never doubted it.“Yes,” Martha confirmed.  The glow was intensifying.  Any second, and the Master, too, would notice it.  “A telepathic field binding the whole human race together; with all of them, every single person on Earth, thinking the same thing at the same time.  And that word is ‘Doctor’.”“Wh…”  Whirling, the Master stared as his fellow Time Lord, along with his cage, began to frankly radiate.  “NO.”/Oh, yes./  It was working.  /It’s working!/ Relief was as powerful as fear; as was joy.  /Let them see it!  Let them hope harder!  Say it, all of you!  Not ‘Master’, but Doctor!/Triumph was a heady thing.And still, the glow of hope brightened; before their eyes, and in every heart.***The whole room was chanting it now.  Rose, too, as she stood just a foot or so away; praying with all her might that it would work.  /Go on!  You’ve got this, Doctor!/“Doctor!” Jack joined in; very nearly at a shout, now.  At his side, Francine.  “Doctor!”  Clive as well, and Tish.  “Doctor!”Was she imagining it, or was the tiny form of her bloke beginning to rise, to float?  /Bourn up on the tide of it./  The unexpected manifestation brought her even greater conviction, and her repetition of that one incredible word gained power with each utterance.  “Doctor!”“Stop it!  No, no, no, no, you don't!”No one listened to the Master anymore.  Not when he sounded more unnerved and pissy than in-command.  Even his hand-picked troops were gaping; some of them making a mad rush for the lift, the exit to his rooms; anywhere they could go to get away from the radiant form of their enemy, ascendant. And down, on the Earth, over the monitors by which the Despot of Earth had overseen the enslavement of humanity, the chant crested; gaining strength.  “Doctor.  Doctor!  DOCTOR!”The Master was cowering, now, as the shape of the Doctor lengthened, became right-sized again; the glow so fierce by this point that it was hard to look at.  /It’s working!  He’s coming back to me!/  “DOCTOR!”  She was almost screaming it now, and Martha right along with her.  Jack, too, while the rest of the Jones clan muttered it with grim fury.“Don't.”
“Doctor.  Doctor.  Doctor.”
“Stop this right now.  Stop it!”The Master flinched full-bodied when Lucy, too, joined in, looking inspired and as if she couldn’t quite believe she, too, might survive and be freed.  “Doctor.”By now, soaring and resplendent, the suspended Doctor looked to be back to how he had appeared on that first day.  A hundred or so, but nothing worse than that.  “I've had a whole year to tune myself into the psychic network and integrate with its matrices,” he informed the Master casually.
“…Doctor!  Doctor!  Doctor!...”
Backing up fast, the Master was shrieking by now.  “I order you to stop!”/As if anyone gives a tinker’s damn for your orders anymore./  Down there on Earth, by now even those who hadn’t gotten the message had to be realising what was happening by what they saw on their screens.  That, or they were joining in because that was what humans did.  They drew strength from one another; became a single body.  “DOCTOR!  DOCTOR!  DOCTOR!”Even the remaining, gaping soldiers had joined in with a will.  The massive, immeasurable energy crescendoed… and the Doctor was back to his former appearance, like he had never left. It was so good to see him like that that Rose stumbled with it, the relief near bringing her to her knees.  “The one thing you can't do,” her shimmering bloke informed the Master conversationally.  “You can’t stop them thinking.”  And to everyone’s relieved joy, he was even smiling a little.  “Tell me the human race is degenerate now, when they can do this!”Down on the floor, Martha broke and ran for her family.  They embraced as a body, weeping with relief and joy.  Jack was right there with them; hugging them all, kissing Martha’s face whenever he had space between the rest of them doing the same. /You did it, Martha Jones.  You did it!/ Rose thought proudly at her.  /And I’ll say it out loud to you, in a bit.  Once you’ve had time to know it./Defeated by simple hope, the Master was backing down the steps now.  He appeared to be seeking a wall to put his back against.  “No!” he shouted for the nth time, and sought in his pocket for his screwdriver.  Shot it at the Doctor; a last-ditch effort. Before anyone could panic, the beam skipped off like a rock in a pond.  The worldwide energy field was still around him, the lethal laser absorbed with no effect. “I'm sorry,” the Doctor told him; and he even looked like he meant it, which was honestly mad.  “I'm so sorry…” /Don’t be sorry for him, Doctor!  He brought it on himself!/“NO!” the Master protested, nearly wailing now.                                                The Doctor came on, implacable as a burning sun, coming to end everything with light.  “…But it’s over.”“Then I'll kill them!” the Master shouted, and redirected the screwdriver toward Martha and the other celebrants.Before Rose could even begin to panic, the Doctor stretched out one imperious arm.  Rose’s mouth fell open when the screwdriver flew right out of the Master's hand to land in his.  /Well, that’s cool!  Like using the Force!/Beaten, disarmed, without any other weapon, the Master was in a fair taking.  “You can't do this!” he babbled, frantic and furious; but like a toddler having a tantrum.  “You can't do it.  It's not fair!”/Wow.  What a fucking infant!/The Doctor ignored this nonsensical shouting as he advanced; impossibly menacing, impossibly kind, his feet not at all touching the floor.  “And you know what happens now.”“No! No! No! No!”  It seemed the ruler of Earth was reduced, now, to a single horrified syllable.“You wouldn’t listen,” the Doctor informed him, sounding sorrowful as he floated nearer to.“No!”“Because you know what I'm going to say.”By now the Master of the universe was a tiny ball, curled up against the wall and muttering.  “No.”Rose blew out a breath when the Doctor came to rest beside the babbling, humbled psychopath… and gently tucked an arm around his shuddering form.  “I forgive you.”Hearing it, the Master’s face crumpled, all arrogance gone in a wash of what looked like horror. At first, hearing this, Rose’s reaction was both disgust, and no small measure of disappointment.  /Oh, please.  You would./  But after a moment spent reading his face…  He’d said the words, but they didn’t touch his relentless, oddly callous eyes as he looked down on the cowering Time Lord. Seeing it, and upon due consideration… she didn’t really think he meant it.  Actually, watching him crouched there, she even thought maybe he’d chosen to say those precise words simply because it might hurt the Master more than anything to know that he could never sincerely win him over.  That no matter what temptation he waved, he could never quite change the Doctor, make him like him. /And if that’s it, then it’s true.  You’ll never make him hate you; or at least, not like he hated the Daleks… because even with them, he managed to forgive enough to help them try to change, and to survive, and that’s…/It hit her then.  /That’s the victory.  If he can’t alter who we are at heart, like he did with poor Lucy and so many, then no matter how much damage he’s caused, he’s still lost!/The Master went on cringing as the Doctor surrounded him; and as she watched, Rose found she actually did understand, a little.  /All the deaths and the suffering aside, it clearly hurts the prick more than anything to hear it./ She could take some comfort in that last.“You’ve lost,” the Doctor told his erring fellow; as if in benediction, and in confirmation of Rose’s assumptions. Panicking now, the black hole that was the Master tried a last-ditch attempt to escape his unwilling fate.  “My children!” the Master screeched from under the Doctor’s paralysing arm; seeking any way out. Outside, thousands of spheres streamed up from the four corners of the world; streaking as one back toward the Valiant.  The ones inside the ship were making terrified sounds as they zoomed toward the bowels of the floating ship.  “Protect the paradox!  Protect the paradox!”Without fully looking away from his defeated nemesis, the Doctor snapped, “Jack, Martha; the paradox machine!”Jack sprang into action, jerking a thumb at all the soldiers who had stayed.  Likely the ones who had, deep inside, hoped for a miracle, and had only given in because they felt they had no other choice.  “You men, with me!”“You, stay!” Martha ordered her family, and dashed after him. Jack and Martha vanished into the lift, leaving the Joneses standing by the wall staring at the closed door of it.Feeling immeasurably weary, almost heavy now the moment had passed, Rose descended the steps to stand by her man.  Which was why she saw it when she did; from her slightly elevated vantage.  Saw what he couldn’t, where he knelt, half-bent over his fellow.  “Doctor!”The Master was trying to escape with the vortex manipulator!“No!” the Doctor shouted, and grabbed at it just as the Master sent them into who knew where.Within a millisecond, they were gone.  /Well, damn/ Rose thought, abandoned in the throne room with the Joneses.  /That’s lovely./***The monitor allowed them to see what was happening around the TARDIS, as Jack, Martha, and the remaining soldiers raced to where it lay.  ‘’Hurry! Martha called as they opened fire on three spheres already guarding the Tardis.  They wouldn’t be alone for long, either.  Faster than any human, swirling outside the windows, the lot of them were hurtling en masse back towards the Valiant; a vast cloud of raining death.  ‘We’ve got six billion spheres heading right for us!’Dozens of them had already arrived to join their trio of early-arrived compatriots.  Wincing as she watched, Rose wondered if she should dash down there and help. ‘We can't get in!’ a guard shouted on the monitor.  ‘We'd get slaughtered!’Jack didn’t slow.  ‘Yeah, happens to me a lot,’ he answered, and ran on alone/Oh, God…/  Rose watched helplessly, as stuck as Martha was as they shot haphazardly at spheres while Jack was gunned down, rose, rinsed, and repeated.  Eventually, despite the mad numbers he faced, he gained the door, employed his key.  By the sound of it, once inside, he opened fire right on the central column, emptying his entire clip. Barely able to see within due to the poor angle of the camera on-screen, Rose closed her eyes and prayed.  /C’mon, c’mon, comeonnnnn!/When the paradox machine blew, the whole world felt it.  It was like Earth itself trembled in the grip of Time as the over-strained paradox fell to bits, all that was holding it back knocked asunder.The spheres all vanished in an instant; such a sudden change that Rose was left staring at the monitors as the clouds of ravening things just weren’t there anymore.  She stumbled then, as the ship began to shake mightily.  Papers flew everywhere, blown by a wind not of this Earth.  /Sucked into the interrupted past./ She fell to her knees as the second shock hit.  Staggered back to her feet automatically, when likely she ought to remain as she was for safety’s sake.  To one side, the Joneses clung to the walls and to door-handles to keep from being thrown off their feet.Rose was still in a state of stunned amazement when, in the same instant, the Doctor and the Master reappeared, still grappling over the vortex manipulator.  The Doctor wrested it away at last, then threw it aside.  Just in time, too, because with another violent tremor, Rose was thrown right into his arms. Cradling her, he sank to his knees and pressed his cheek tight to hers.  “Everyone get down!  Time is reversing!”It was like being sucked backward through a massive straw.  The Master was clinging onto a nearby bit of railing, almost horizontal with the effort of keeping himself here.  Of course, he wouldn’t want to be summarily and entirely removed from the time-stream, right along with his floating, paradoxical army.  He was currently occupied with surviving, which meant he wasn’t paying a single iota of attention to anyone else in the room.  Seeing her chance, Francine stumbled across the empty space, careening from side to side… then fell to her knees and grabbed up an abandoned pistol from the floor.  Her face was overtaken with a grimace of sheer, furious resolve, expression rigid with determination.  /Oh, shit./Not that she was likely to draw a decent bead with it, the way the world heaved, but if she did manage it, would it cause even further problems?  /We surely don’t need another paradox!  What happens if he’s no longer with us when we land back on the correct timeline?/ Rose’s mind whirled with the possibilities.  Unlike a Time Lord, she wasn’t equipped to see cause and effect the way they did, in their full complexity.  Logically, it seemed like a bad thing, but at base, she really had no idea.  “Don’t!”Francine didn’t appear to hear her, marching implacably on with both shaking hands locked on the weapon.  Meanwhile, down on the surface, the winds of Time must have been creating a mass panic, for the chanting crowds below were now screaming as one.  Just when Rose thought everything was about to be swallowed up, like some vast, immeasurable miscalculation… it all stopped. Outside the window and on the monitors, it all disappeared.  The shrieking people, the endless fields of rockets; even the vast statues the Master had had erected of himself.  Next thing Rose knew, the same screens showed only calm crowds going about their business in what had once been a burnt husk.  London, just doing what it did.  Red buses going about Piccadilly Circus, shoppers shopping…  /Oh.  Oh God; we’re back!/Shifting her gently to her feet, the Doctor stood in turn.  “The paradox is broken.  We've reverted back, one year and one day.  Two minutes past eight in the morning.”/Oh, my God; we did it!/Was it really over?  It seemed unreal to believe it, after everything they had endured in the last awful orbit of the Earth.The radio to one side crackled to life once more, this time with an unexpected crispness.  “This is UNIT Central.  What's happened up there?  We just saw the President assassinated!’/Oh.  Then… it’s true.  Everyone’s back.  All the wounds, healed.  All the dead, returned.  Everything like it was./Talk about mad.  Confusing; and not a little unnerving.  /And thank goodness for it!/“Just after the President was killed, but just before the spheres arrived,” the Doctor uttered with some satisfaction; a confirmation that all was, somehow and impossibly, well. /Sad for him/ Rose thought of the dead executive, /but he was a bit of a self-important ponce himself, so…  Eh./  On balance, she would take one dead President and glad, if it meant that so many wonderful, skilled, compassionate, courageous people were returned to them.  /Jo, and Benton, and the Brigadier!  That bloke Ricard from Paris Underground One; and Ellie Burlson, from the New York Resistance!  Dr. Toshiko, and everyone in Japan, and Jesus Barria from Peru, and…/“Everything back to normal.  Planet Earth restored.”  The Doctor sent her a grateful, vastly-relieved, almost tremulous smile.  “None of it happened.  The rockets, the terror.  It never was.”/That’s…/  Oh, it was so good!  /Might cry./  “Where’d the Toclafane go?” Rose heard herself ask, feeling a bit like she was floating.  /There I go; in shock again./It had been the hell of a day!The Doctor’s expression turned slightly regretful for the sake of those time-travelling remains of humanity.  “Trapped at the end of the universe.”/Well… good.  Better there than here.  At least we knew we humans made it to the end.  And he’s right.  Everything dies eventually.//Only, today?  Not us!/  The relief of it was like breathing again after a year spent drowning.To one side, Francine was visibly confused and reeling.  “But I can remember it.”“We're at the eye of the storm,” the Doctor told her, holding out a hand to lift a shaken Tish to her feet.  “The only ones who'll ever know.”  Held out another hand to Clive.  “Oh, hello.  You must be Mr. Jones.  We haven't actually met.”Behind him as he greeted Martha’s father with amiable warmth, the Master made a break for it.  Poor luck for him, he gained the lift just as Jack was exiting.  As such, Jack caught him on reflex.  “Whoa, big fella!  You don't want to miss the party!”  Digging into a pocket, he pulled out a few cable-ties and slapped them round the defeated Time Lord’s wrists./Oh, how the tables have turned!/  Seeing the purported Master of the universe looking so hangdog was a wonderful thing indeed.“So,” Jack added, shoving the captive out before him.  He absently stepped aside to allow a triumphant Martha to rejoin her family, and sent the Doctor a querying look.  “What do we do with this one?”“We kill him!” Clive answered, as if it was a no-brainer.“We execute him!” Tish agreed, just as vindictive.  As well they might be, given all that family likely suffered under his thumb.“No, that's not the solution,” the Doctor began, then flinched when, driven beyond herself, Francine aimed the pistol she held at the prisoner.  “Wait!”“Oh, I don’t think so.  Because all those things?  They still happened because of him.  I saw them.”She was a strong woman; no doubt about it.  /Can tell where Martha gets it.  But he won’t allow it, sorry to say./ Rose had no doubts about that, either.The Master, though, seemed oddly willing to be assassinated.  “Go on.  Do it!” he urged, manic and furious in the face of utter defeat.The Doctor ignored him.  “Francine,” he was saying, sounding utterly compassionate to her reaction.  “It’s what he wants.  Don’t let him win.  Make him live with defeat.  As punishments go…”“DO IT!”“…For him, that’s the worst thing he can imagine.” /Ah.  I reckon that makes sense, for a bellend like him./Martha’s mum hesitated.  “Francine, you're better than him.”  The Doctor stepped closer, hand held out; pleading.  “Believe me; you don’t want that on your conscience.”Martha’s mother wavered, every eye in the room on her, every breath held.  And finally, the hate on her face gave way to regret as she lowered the gun. Taking it, the Doctor hugged her bracingly, then handed her off to Martha as she stepped fully out of the lift.  She received her agitated mother; held her tightly, murmuring reassurances as he turned back to his Time Lord charge.“You still haven't answered the question,” the Master told him, teeth bared in frustration.  “What happens to me?”The Doctor shot Rose a pained look that said he had no idea how he was going to fix this one thing.  “You're my responsibility from now on,” he contemplated aloud.  “The only Time Lord left in existence.”Rose was far too tired to wince over it.  /Yup.  How did I know that was coming?/ “Yeah, but you can't trust him!” Jack called, speaking before she could.“No.”  Remorse filling his voice, his eyes locked on Rose, he murmured, “The only safe place for him is the TARDIS.”Seeing it coming didn’t help it to go down any easier.  /Well, that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?/ Part of her wanted to scream at him; ask why would he do that to her?  And honestly, to the TARDIS as well, given what the Master had done to her.  But at the same time, it really did show how truly desperate he was to keep even this tiny semblance of his old home, or anything that faintly smacked of it, even.  /And as to responsibility… he probably really does believe that all this is on his head.  His to fix, because he didn’t stop it before./Of course, as a solution, it really did leave one wondering, ‘What does that mean for me?’The Master seemed equally incredulous.  “You mean you're just going to…  To keep me?”/Yeah; great.  A psychopath on the TARDIS to take up your attention, keep you from helping people.  Fantastic./  But she got why he thought he had to do this.  Obviously it would be helping people in its own way to keep this asshat from harming them further, but…  /But it’ll be damned uncomfortable.  And that’s if he doesn’t try to send me off for a bit to keep me safe so he can piddle about with this idiot./It really seemed a massive waste of everyone’s time and attention, much less their abused emotions.  And it highlighted one thing quite clearly.  The Doctor was both too bloody desperate to have someone like him about… and too bloody desperate to alleviate his own guilt, as well.As if in illustration of that fact, he looked away from her, probably reading what she was thinking.  “If that's what I have to do.  It's far and away time to change.”  Then he was back, eyes not on the bewildered Master, but instead staring into her soul.  “Maybe I've been wandering for too long.”  His lips flattened to a thin line. Any other time, she might happily encourage him to explore this new mentality.  /But not in this case.  Not if you have to alter everything you are and sacrifice your entire mission, become someone else to accomplish it!  That's exactly what you're trying to avoid, here!/She understood why, knew it was as much wishful thinking as anything; but at the same time…  /He’s not worth it, Doctor.  For either one of us!/ Didn’t help to know that, without this imperative choice…  /For one, you wouldn’t have to change who you are to stay with me.  You wouldn’t have to quit a life you love.  And if you wanted to stop wandering, you know I’d be there; because I’m here either way./ This was all wrong, was what it was.  /He's grasping at straws to find a way to fix it all... but he can't fix this one!/“I have someone to look after me,” the Doctor went on, sounding pensive.  “But you need someone to look after you.”  More as if he were speaking to himself, and to her, than to the other Time Lord in the room.At least he knew he had that much already.  /He just wants someone to want to stay with him./  It hurt to hear it in his voice, of course, because...  /There’s me/ Rose thought to him; well knowing it wasn’t the same, but at the same time…She never got to react aloud.  Nor did the Master.  Just as the Doctor was pulling him back to his feet, a gunshot rang out.Spinning, Rose stared wildly about, seeking the source of the report.  Finally caught sight of a white-faced Lucy, her smeared red lipstick a lurid stain below her feral eyes as she lowered the smoking pistol.  Likely, she had retrieved it once Francine had been relieved of the weapon.  It would have been set aside somewhere without thought, and then…/Oh/ Rose thought dumbly.  /Should’ve seen that coming./  It had been, no doubt, for a long bloody time.The Doctor caught the Master as he staggered back.  To one side, Jack was already disarming Lucy.  “Put it down.  That’s it.  Calm down.  It’s over.”As if in contrast to those calm, commanding tones, the Doctor sounded frantic; a low moan in his throat as he slowly settled his sagging burden to the floor.  “There you go.  I've got you.  I've got you.”The Master stared up at him, his expression oddly triumphant under that anguished gaze.  “Always the women,” he gasped, still with enough energy to sound annoyed by it./I mean, if you treated us better…/Oddly enough, the Doctor was apologising.  “I didn't see her.  I…”“Dying in your arms…” the Master informed him, short and satisfied.  “Happy now?”The Doctor shook his head in fierce negation.  “You're not dying!  Don't be stupid!  It's only a bullet.  Just regenerate.”/And then we have to deal with his ass forever.  Joy./  Stepping away, Rose prepared herself for the bright, golden glow that was a Time Lord starting over.She was as stunned as the Doctor when the Master jerked his head weakly; just once, in negation.  “No.”/Wait; really?/“One little bullet.  Come on!”  Panic was rising in the Doctor’s voice now; a fearful, pleading cry that seemed to rise from his very soul.“…Guess you don't… know me so well,” the dying wanker informed him, wheezing.  “I refuse.”/Hm.  Well, that would neatly solve our little problem, wouldn’t it?/  She hadn’t truly known before now that regeneration was a choice for them, but if it was…  /I can’t say I’m sad about it.  Even if I know what it’ll mean for the Doctor./As if in illustration of this last, panic gave way to utter, undisguised terror.  “No, listen!  Regenerate.  Just regenerate.  Please.  Please!”/Oh, God./  The agony in his voice ripped at her.  It made her understand, in some small way.  That it didn’t matter; who it was.  /He’s one of his.  That’s all that matters to him.  He just wants one of them to back; at any cost!/“You of all people don’t want to die!  Just regenerate,” the Doctor chanted on.  “Come on!”“And… spend the rest of my life… imprisoned with you?” the Master gasped, as if it were a laughable concept.  His eyes darted over to Rose, perversely victorious.  “You know… I don’t want to share you.  Wouldn’t… ever have… your full attention, so long as she…”  He sucked in a hard, whistling breath that sounded soggy; like he was slowly drowning.  “…Know I’ll want… to revenge myself on her, for that.  Use her… against you.  You wouldn’t… allow that.  Too complicated.”She had known for a long time that he couldn’t be anything but the centre of the Doctor’s attention.  But…  /Even if the alternative is death?  Wow, what an absolute ass!/Selfish to the end, too.  /Well, at least he’s consistent./“…Certainly don’t want… be a prisoner.”  A blood-stained, lurid grin that weirdly matched Lucy’s staring, lipstick-smeared face.  As pale, too.  “…Lose all this glory…  No posh surroundings…  Too much of a… comedown.”“But…  You've got to!” the Doctor wailed, audibly losing his mind over it.  “Come on!  It can't end like this!  You and me, all the things we've done….”The yearning there, the desperate nostalgia, was like a thousand minuscule, shallow knife-wounds.  /Enough pinpricks can still be fatal, you get enough of ‘em./The Master remained utterly focussed on reading the Doctor’s grieving, horror-stricken face.  “…Nothing hurt you more… than leaving you.  Know it.”/Oh, what an ass!/  Anyway, it was clearly true.  The screaming anguish in the Doctor’s voice would surely haunt Rose; maybe forever.  “Axons.  Remember the Axons?” he demanded in turn; holding tight to the dying man, rocking him.  “And the Daleks.”  He was sobbing now, tears streaming down his cheeks, his mouth open, eyes lost.  “We're the only two left.  There's no one else.  Regenerate!”“How about that.  I win.”  The Master sounded so…  So wondering, about it.  His eyes were already glazing over.  “Will it stop, Doctor?” he whispered.  “The drumming.  Will it stop?”With that last exhalation, he fell limp. “NO!”Weeping like his entire soul had been torn out, the Doctor went on rocking the empty, lifeless body of his old friend, his dearest enemy.  “No, please, no…”  Pleading with death, and with Time, to give him back even one of his own.But there came no answer, this time round.*   *   *

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SEVEN:
The Doctor stood back and watched the fire catch.  Watched as it swiftly spread over the un-regenerated body of his sole remaining fellow Time Lord; greedy to end it all in ashes. Here, in the unintentional amphitheatre that was the quarry, he could perform the service himself, without fear that the flames would spread and do untoward damage to a world that had already suffered quite enough.  /Even if they don’t remember it.  Harm mitigation, as usual, when it comes to him.  Down to the very end./ /You would appreciate that, wouldn’t you?  The stage-like surroundings?  Fire-light flickering over the stones, the irregular, cut faces of the rocks, as if to announce that someone great has passed?/  The Master was nothing if not theatrical.  Likely would have approved of the dramatic setting of his fiery sepulchre.  Of the way the flames consuming his body lit the cliffs and boulders strewn round the site of his final, unspoken epitaph.  /Your very hubris and arrogance—something we all have, but which you perfected—was also hamartia, for you.  How about that.  And you were right; my self-effacing shield was nearly mine, in the end, as well./The codicil was an agonising one.  /And my loneliness, nearly the ruin of all of us./ Thank god for Rose; and for the Master’s own sure and certain self-knowledge.  The Doctor was well aware that he had gone a bit mad, there at the end, to have thought his insane solution might actually have a prayer of working.  /Blinded by need./  All he had known in those last, harrowing minutes, was that he couldn’t stand to see another of his people die if he could stop it; by any means.  /But if he had taken me up on it…/Here, in the cold light of coming dawn, and faced with the inalterable, heated plasma of reconstitution, he could admit that it was all very foolish, what he had offered this being now being consumed before him.  /Burning up suits you.  You’d appreciate the irony that someone so afire with impossible ideas might end up like this./    He knew none of his dear companions would ever understand how, in the end, he had been able to say, ‘I forgive you’ to this creature who had so plagued them, had injured so many and destroyed so much.  /And yes; I had to say it, because it was the one thing he didn’t want to hear… but also because whether they’ll ever accept it or not…/  There were other reasons, of course, for that last.  /One, it was as much my fault, in the end.  My responsibility, given the only reason he did all of it, at the sum of things, was for my benefit.  To hold my attention…//And, of course, because I allowed it.  In the final analysis, that puts it all squarely on me.  Because he’s always going to do what he does.  He always does something insane./  It was a painful, rueful acknowledgment, and one that came through a veil of unshed tears.  /Or, rather… he did./Putting the Master solidly in the past-tense was almost as painful as setting him aflame had been.  /And, necessary./ The thing was, he accepted his former friend for who he was.  Always had; no matter how ridiculous the fallout.  Even felt a modicum of fondness for the other Time Lord’s predictable extravagances.  /Because, in his own insane way, he wanted to share it all with me.  Wanted me to join him as he rebuilt our world.  No.  More than that.  Wanted me to want it!  Even if the version of it he wanted to construct was fatally-flawed./ That had been the reason behind the Master’s obsession with keeping him near to hand, on the bridge of his amazing flying ship.  /It’s why he pulled me up to watch with him as he enjoyed what he thought was his triumph./ How well he recalled tottering there, forced to watch as the Earth was overcome.  Trapped there, listening to his fellow, mental Gallifreyan rant about it as if it were something to be celebrated.  “And so it came to pass that the human race fell, and the Earth was no more. And I looked down upon my new dominion as Master of all, and I thought it good.”/So bloody misguided!  We both miss our home.  We’ve both had to be what we’d been made into!  But we had opposite goals; for the same reason!  Because neither of us can ever fully accept what became of our world, our kind; our reality./ It was more than just a home and a people they had lost.  It was a way of life, an identity, a system, a thought-process... and so much more.  And, gone, never to return.  /He wanted to shift time itself.  Break it even, to bring it back; or failing that, or to recreate it.  I chose to accept that it’s gone, whatever I do, and even if I end in mourning till the last of my days./It was odd how intensely they always ended up paralleling one another, given their very disparate methodologies.  “You’re my shadow-self,” he told the funerary bonfire sadly.  “And yet, even as I send you on your way forever, I know you’ll always be there; inside me, driving me on.  I’ll have to watch out, won’t I, so you don’t end up taking over.”  He couldn’t allow himself to become like the Master.  /And yet, now, without you there, in my face… will it be easier for me to forget it?  What not to do, with what I have been given?/Behind him, hovering in the darkness at his back like an ever-present reminder of his other very narrow path, Rose Tyler stood patiently waiting.  She didn’t understand his need to see this through, of course; no more than she could fathom his agony, his sorrow, his unending regret.  And, it seemed she didn’t have to, to be here for him.  /No.  If I forget what I am, forget what he was… I’ll have her to pull me back from the edge.  Does she know how very much I rely on her?  How much moreso I’ll have to, now he’s gone?/   He might attempt to explain it to her, someday.  /Not today, though.  I still can’t come to terms with it myself.  How very much alike we are; or were, there at the end.  Me, having to seek out infamy in order to counter him; to take his name from everyone’s lips, put mine in its place if only to save them all.  To make myself notorious, in the name of making it all right.  And that feeling; that power, as it coursed through me?  Their near-worship; not of me, but of their idea of me?/It had been heady, no matter how badly he wished he could forget it.  /Just let it go.  Remember that we were always after opposing goals.  Because I don’t want that!  Not really!  Never wanted worship.  Recognition by a small few, but…  And if he wanted to create a great, ongoing, never-ending paradox, I did everything in my power to stop one from occurring./ He was aware that he sounded like he was fighting to convince himself, even inside his own head.  Probably not a positive sign.  /Much good it did, that fight./  Either way, and despite the outcome…  /We both lost./ “It may have reverted,” he heard himself say; into the night, to Rose, hovering solicitously somewhere behind him.  “But the fact remains, all you’ve suffered?  All Martha did, and her family… even Jack.  All my fault.”Moving cautiously, as if in sympathy with his muddled, spinning thoughts, Rose drew near, emerging out of the night.  Like a beacon of hope to the darkness inside his own head; symbol of all he still had, and as yet had not lost.  Somehow.  “You didn’t know what he planned,” she insisted softly; willing, as ever, to forgive him in turn. /I don’t deserve you, Rose.  Not in the slightest./She did not touch him just yet, instead giving him the space she thought he needed to cope with all that had just occurred.  /But she’s here, as ever.  Whenever the universe finds some way to knock me down to my knees, she’s here to heal me.  That’s a wonder./  How in the name of all that was holy had he managed to attach someone as pure and as wholly devoted to him as she?  /What the hell did I ever do to have you here with me, Rose Tyler?/ He’d had a lot of time to consider matters while he was sitting there as the Master’s captive for that endless year that wasn’t.  To work everything out, if it ever came round right again.  Had been able to feel her; somewhere lurking on the ship for that last six months, knew based on some of the brief messages they had been able to pass among them that Martha’s family was hiding her.  Helping her to stay fed and the rest, so that she could do her part; both as liaison, and to remain near to him.  /In case I ever needed her./  Knew she likely hated it; staying away, so close and yet so far.  /And yet, she did it; for me.  For all of us, because that’s what she is./ He was far more grateful for that silent presence than he could ever find the words to express.  Good thing she knew it, either way.  /I can talk to you.  Despite our differences…  I can let you know me./  “I sent those people on, when I should have known, somehow, what he might do with them.”  He stared bitterly into the rising flames; as if by doing so, they could consume the disquiet in his own mind.  Leave nothing behind but empty stillness; a peace he ever sought, but might never find.  /Except with you, whether I deserve it or no./  “Maybe I should just stop.  Maybe I’m no good for anyone, anymore.” The whole point of letting all this horror happen, when he could have halted it, had been to make things better.  /But in so doing, I had to allow the paradox and all it contained to occur.  And look what happened./ It was a very complicated idea; even for a Time Lord.  /Would that the two paradoxes merely canceled each other out.  Then none of this would have had to take place./“For what it’s worth,” Rose told him, quiet but sure, “I don’t think that’s the answer.”  Her tones turned slightly sardonic.  “For one thing, most of the time you’re not facing another Time Lord.”  This said in full awareness that that was half his problem, right there./Yeah, because whatever else we shared… that bit of similarity wasn’t enough to make it work.  To keep him; because we were forever opposites./ The Master had wanted his admiration, his acclaim for his brilliance…  /But he always goes about it in such an idiotic way!  And it makes me behave the idiot in turn, trying to sort out the resultant disasters./ As flirting went, it wasn’t the best tactic.  /Didn’t help that he was so self-impressed/ the Doctor thought ruefully, as the regret swamped him again.  /So sure he’s right, is on the only available path, that he can’t…/ /Couldn’t.  Not can’t.  Couldn’t.  Never will again./  He struggled with it, feeling as if he was barely keeping his head above the water.  Like that poor horse in that eighties film about depression and ennui.  /He couldn’t ever see that there might be methods, other paths.  Too unaware of his own weaknesses, too sure he was right./ /But then, we have that in common, don’t we./The difference was, in the Master’s hands, that confidence was a poisonous thing.  /At least, I hope I’m self-aware enough to catch when I’m being a prat./ That part was likely to be easier with Rose around, as well.  /He never could.  And he wasn’t malleable.  So resistant to change.  Would rather destroy an entire world to remake it in his own image than to explore, enjoy the uncertainties.  See the beauty in that, and just face everything with child-like wonder./He knew it was all down to what had been done to them as kids, obviously.  /He couldn’t see the wonder because it was robbed from him by terror.  I have to keep the awe of it at the forefront of my own mind, so I don’t go mad as well, facing all the things I must, and will again.  But if you can’t see the beauty in not knowing… then I imagine it would be all too easy to fall apart in the face of all we cannot actually change./It really made one wonder just how the hell Rose had made it out of that same situation with her mind intact, her lovely personality unblemished.  /How did you better all of us, Rose, when faced with the Vortex?/ It was why the Master had been so obsessed with her himself, by the end.  Because neither of them could remotely fathom how that had occurred.  /Even if I took it from her; the fact that she survived it at all…/Incomprehensible.  /And yet, here you are.  We’re in bits, and you…//I ran.  I never stopped.  And he went and tried to turn a paradox itself into something unchanging, inalterable.  To use a closed time-loop against itself, to keep something he was never meant to have or hold./ The codicil to that last was currently staring him hard in the face.  /He couldn’t accept the uncertainty of Time; and I couldn’t accept the certainty of loss.  Still can’t.  That I wasn’t meant to keep him.  Not because I can’t have that, but because he would never allow it.  Not if he wasn’t in control; because to be out of control, of anything, is to spiral into madness, for him./It was the shared fulcrum that had driven them both to ever circle one another.  /I’ve accepted that for all my abilities, all my powers, I have control over nothing.  I’ve accepted the pain in that; again and again, and especially now.  He never could.  Two sides of the same coin./ Reaching back automatically, he sought for Rose; for the one thing he had allowed himself to cling to despite knowing that change was the only constant.  Felt her close with him; a solid reminder that at least now, in this moment, he wasn’t actually alone.  /I’ve accepted inevitable loss, in exchange for the moments.  That has been, and might remain, ever my most impressive accomplishment.  He wouldn’t, couldn’t… because in order to do so, he had to accept that he was never in command of his own existence./It was why telling him he was forgiven was such a blow.  /Because it meant I’ll never understand or agree.  That he, in his own way, was just as alone./ Having a foil was great in a story, but it hurt the hell of a lot in practise.  /Bit mad, isn’t it, that we were the only ones left, and we had to be so diametrically-opposed.  In every way./His solution, of course, one he’d grasped for at the last minute out of sheer desperation… it wouldn’t have worked, in the end.  He’d known it the entire time, whether he wanted to admit to that reality or no.  It just simply would not.  It was one or the other of them—the Master, or Rose—and knowing it had had him torn to pieces. Over an entire year of watching humanity suffer at the hands of one of his own, and that snarl had been the worst part.  /Because if it’s him or Rose…  Thing is, she can never give me what he might have, but he didn’t want to give it, either, so what have I really lost?  If it was any other Time Lord…  But it wasn’t.  It was the one who couldn’t see a way, refused to let either of us rest.  Which made it impossible, and agonising, and salt in the wound of what we both lost, and could never regain.  Whereas with her…/ Rose wasn’t a Time Lord, but that was also a bloody good thing.  For one, she didn’t have that desperate need all Time Lords bore; to use the stuff of the universe against itself.  /It’s nice that she’s different.  By it, she might have a chance of keeping me on an even keel—a lot to ask, a lot to put on her—where another Time Lord might just encourage me to see what I can do, if I ever went to the full extreme of my abilities.  Because with her, I don’t have to.  All she wants is for me to exist in the same sphere as her.  I don’t have to prove anything!/It was honestly such a relief that he couldn’t even encompass it in words.  /Add to that, she also doesn’t worship me, like the rest of humanity had to do to save themselves, so I’ll never have to let go of that opinion, with her.  She just accepts me; as I am, on my worst and best days.  And that’s…/ It was better.  Objectively, it was far better, that she couldn’t understand those parts of him.  Because it also meant that she could never believe it of him; what he could turn into, if he wasn’t perfectly careful about it, every second.  And knowing it—that she could only see the good in him, expected nothing less than that he be his best self, the one he saw reflected in her impossibly loving eyes?  /That’s the one thing I need so that I might in fact somehow live up to what she believes I am.  I might even deserve how she looks at me, if I keep right on staring into her eyes.  Every second, so I don’t forget, and become… that./He might always wonder at the might-have-beens, here, but he couldn’t go on worrying at them like this.  /I know it would never have worked.  For one thing, he couldn’t see her as anything but a rival for my attention.  He would never have given over trying to eliminate her./  She didn’t have to say it for them both to know it.  That it absolutely wouldn’t have gelled.  That maybe…/Maybe this is the only way this could have ended.  Such an idiot, to think…/His only excuse, now he could think again, was that he had been desperate.  /Because I don’t know how I thought I could take that chance.  I’d have had to give her up; give up all she’s brought to me, everything she sacrificed to be with me.  So then, maybe this is, in fact, the right way for it to have gone./ Still, somehow, he couldn’t celebrate it as a win.  /Not just yet.  Because there’ll never be another time.  Never another moment when he’ll come slamming back into everyone’s lives, to be a thorn in my side.  Pull my hair and run, the way he always tended to do… and stimulate me.  Give me something to put my back up against, to remind me of what I must not become, and of what was put here to do./ Part of his brain would likely always be off screaming into the void, ‘We could have been something!  But yet, here we are instead’.  /All because you couldn’t be forced to go beyond, ‘Well, if you’re what I have…’/Perhaps fitting that here in this very quarry, they had had their final moments.  /I asserted that you wouldn’t launch because you couldn’t countenance dying; because you needed to win so badly...  And then you won by dying.  I never meant to challenge you on that!/  But still, here they were.  /So then, now; ashes to ashes, dust to dust… just like anyone.  Nothing left; for me, for him.  Nothing to be brought back, resurrected…  Double-edged sword./“Why does he have to be cremated?” Rose queried softly, almost as if she could read his mind.  Maybe she could, at that. “So that no one can take even an iota of his DNA and bring him back.”  He was even able to keep his voice level as he said it.  Inside his brain, though, the information went into a repetitive loop; one he couldn’t escape.  /Never again.  He can’t ever come back.  Can’t be brought back, ever.  He got to choose not to stay.  I have to choose to see to it that he can never return.  Never come back to me.  Never./“Oh,” she whispered.  He heard the shudder in her voice, knew she dreaded that possibility now, however unlikely.  Because she could never in a million years understand why he was so sorry about it.  Had no reason to accept the dichotomy that he must.  /She gets to cleanly despise you.  I wish to hell I had that same luxury.  That I didn’t have to miss you./The raging emptiness of it plagued him.  /Why?  Why did you force me to this?  And what do I do now?/  He demanded it of the night, of the stars, as the flames raged.  Flames like the ones in the War, that had consumed all their fellows.  /As it should have me.  And yet here I am, somehow; all alone./Rose’s hand fell gently to his shoulder.  Instinctively, he leaned into the touch; lifted his hand across his body—across his hearts—to cover the offering.  /No.  Not all alone.  She’s seen to that.  Which is incredible, because I really do ask far too much of her, sometimes./ Really, she was being impossibly understanding, with everything that had just occurred.  /And not for the reasons that your poor companion stayed with you, you fool./ /No./  If one compared his relationship with Rose to the Master’s with Lucy Saxon…  /She was a captive.  She was given no choice.  You forced her into staying with you; made her so fatalistic that she couldn’t leave.  She had to maintain her place for survival’s sake, despite all you took from her./ She had done all he asked, too.  Fluffed up his ego and the lot… but given the way he looked down on her, he couldn’t believe what she said to him.  /We all have that problem, in our own way, though.  We know that everything we can do can be seen by humans as miraculous; so then why believe them when they tell us we’re wonderful?  Of course we would seem so, to them./  He had said similar things to Rose, once, when she'd first told him she loved him.  "Quite right, too," he'd said, like a fool.  Like he was owed her adoration, even though he'd known all along that to be loved by her, of all people, as flawed as he was, was a bleedin' miracle.And that, because at base?  It wasn’t like that, with Rose, somehow.  /She knows I have feet of clay… and she loves me despite.  Possibly as much because she knows it.  Probably thinks it makes me approachable, not dangerous./  Anyroad, he didn’t keep Rose around because she worshipped him.  Wouldn’t have done, if she ever had.  /Would have sent her off the second I had the chance./ She didn’t stay with him because she had no other choice, either.  She had had options for so many more palatable, safe, comfortable lives, and yet…  /In fact, being honest, she had to force me to keep her with me, at points.  It was always her choice; even over and above my own.  And God knows she’s certainly not abused.  Overworked and underpaid, maybe, though hopefully she feels she’s getting a bit more out of the arrangement nowadays…//And she most definitely does not fluff up my ego, most times.  Not except to love me, and that’s enough./  Actually, a large part of her job was to keep said Time Lord’s ego down to manageable levels, and to keep his feet firmly rooted.  /Opposite to what you wanted from yours.  Add to that, all you took from poor Lucy in the name of adulation.  Physical, emotional, sexual; all of it; and all absolutely necessary, to you./  The Master had chosen his name for a reason.  His need for control of others, of reality, had spread to the people around him.  To humiliating and dominating them in order to prove his superiority.  /Which is why you couldn’t allow yourself to be my nominal captive.  If you’re weren’t in control, you were dying a slow death.  Control was such a part of your definitions, at the centre of all your self-actualisation, that losing it was tantamount to suicide.//It’s why you weren’t satisfied by companionship alone./ He looked back briefly, away from the flames.  To where Rose stood; committed no matter what, to staying at his side.  They enjoyed a number of the same side-benefits, now, but none of it was absolutely necessary on either of their parts for her to stay with him, and for him to need her to.  /Because I don’t need adulation, either—much less domination—to survive.  Just her./ In a way, a relationship with another Time Lord would be exactly that.  Had ever been, in the past.  Two overpowered being seeking ever to impress one another.  To top whatever the other did last.  /Instead of this; where just breathing the same air brings me more peace, more joy than I ever thought I could feel.  Knowing it?  I’ll happily take simple, unabashed love and devotion, and call myself lucky./It was too bad that he couldn’t have both, somehow.  /Can’t have love and also keep one of my own kind near me.  But given the choice…/ It would have been another prospect entirely, if he didn’t have Rose.  Because without her at his side, losing the Master might have fully destroyed him.  /But I do have her!  I must celebrate and honour that!  Wondrous, joyous; a path forward, when I might have had none.  Just a glitch in the fabric of overall reality; and it is everything, to me./He fumbled for her hand once more.  /I need this very specific and wondrous love more than I need that other, very specific sort of understanding.  Anyway, I have enough of that, as well, somehow, so long as I have you./  Felt her hand drop to meet his; because she was his hand to hold, with all of it.  /At the core of it, that's what we are and always will be.  And I am so very grateful for it!/ They stood silent; bearing witness as the flames did their slow work.  Given the closed nature of their position, they were both glad of the prevailing wind, which blew the stench away, toward the vast fields that had once been filled with an invasion force; and from thence, out to sea.  /Keep the police from running up here to see what we’re doing.  That’d be the hell of a mess./He thought he might be close to cleansing the most violent edge of grief from his soul, as the flames died down.  /Must be, if I can laugh about it; even grimly and inside my own head.//Oh, Rose; thank the Pillars of Time that you’re here with me!  If you weren’t…/“How’d you keep him from launching the rockets?” Rose broke the silence before he could.  her eyes darted round, taking in the altered landscape as the dawn-light spread to their stark hollow.  “You two vanished down here, and then the paradox collapsed, and…”  A vague wave, encompassing all that could have happened to perhaps turn said paradox into a fixed point in the universe. He looked away toward the greying eastern horizon, pondering it.  /Like during the war.  Thousands upon thousands of layered paradoxes, till the only thing left to do in the end was to burn it all down and start anew.  So that here, the sun can rise again, and not fall./  “Reverse psychology,” he managed round the lump in his throat as he thought back to that deciding moment.  Here, at the edge of the quarry, overlooking the endless shipyards.  To one of his last moments in contact with one of his own kind.  One of the last moments where, despite it all—despite the attendant bullshit and the frustrations of it—he didn’t have to feel that endless, gnawing sense that there was no-one else who could ever truly understand.  “Now it ends, Doctor.  Now it ends.”Thunder, rolling.  Sirens sounding in the shipyard, as the field of rockets prepared to burn. “We've got control of the Valiant.  You can't launch.”  /Just stay with me.  Just give over!/“Oh, but I've got this.”  A device, small and entirely dangerous, waved in his face.  “Black hole converter inside every ship.”  A known, even beloved sneer.  “If I can't have this world, Doctor, then neither can you!”/The way hate and anger drove you; even unto your own ending/ 
“We shall stand upon this Earth together, as it burns.”
/You never understood./  “Weapon after weapon after weapon.  All you do is talk and talk and talk.  But over all these years and all these disasters, I've always had the greatest secret of them all.  I know you.”  And here, at the core of his own agonised uncertainty…  “Explode those ships, you kill yourself.  That's the one thing you can never do.”/Except… in the end, I was wrong, and you did.  You handed over the key to universal domination… but withouat it, you couldn’t bring yourself to give me your life.  Were willing to die; to never come back, to keep yourself out of my hands.  To cease existence, if it meant you could beat me.  You wouldn’t die like that…/But he had, in the end, chosen to die rather than to…  /Rather end it all than just stay with me!/It was a hard pill to swallow, that.  /But that was the problem with us.  He understood, had the exact same problem… but he could never bring himself to solve it my way.  And I could never solve it his way.  Which means—and someday I’ll have to stomach this—it was simply never meant to be./ Still hurt.  A lot, as it happened.  “Not easy to admit that the only remaining member of my own species would rather kill himself than to stay at my side.”  Telling her that—the thing that lay at the centre of his anguish—made it all the more real.  But she had to know.  To understand.Her next words startled him into new perspective, as she was often wont to do.  “But that’s not because of you, you know.  It’s because of him; because of who he was.  He was the screwed-up, mental headcase one, not you.”  A faint hint of amusement touched her voice, then.  “I mean, not to say you don’t have your mad moments; but for a guy whose entire world is gone, you’re pretty damn well-adjusted.”/Yeah, well…  I'm glad you see me so./  He turned to her; and by it, turned his back, finally, on the Master, last of his kind.  /I lost him solely because he didn’t want me enough.  Because I wasn't enough for him.  But she does; and with her, I am.  And that’s…//Well, it’s miraculous, is what it is.  Especially now, after seeing and hearing all she has.  Rose, how do you do it?/  She forever awed him.  “Wouldn’t be, if it weren’t for you.”  Having admitted it, he dropped his head, let his forehead rest on hers with a soft, solid, real thunk.  /I lost him, but I have Rose.  I’ll always have Rose./  Probably he was beginning to count on that far too much; but since he’d made that selection, he now had to find a way to make it stick if he was to survive the fallout of his own insane and selfish needs.  /Only way, if I’m going to survive that choice./  “If I didn’t have you,” he whispered, and shook his head, rocking it back and forth against hers.  /And someday I won’t.  But today—in this moment?—I do.  So best set to acting like it!/He couldn’t doubt if she still wanted him.  Not after all this, with her still here.  As shown by the way she watched him.  Tried that one special smile on him, even, her tongue lightly touching behind her teeth as if to lure him back to mind-salvaging absurdity.  “Well then, lucky thing you do.”/Oh, you don’t know./  “Yes.  Very lucky indeed.”  /And about time I grabbed hold of it and ran with you.  Into the future, with no further regrets./He even had a plan.  One a long time in the making.  One he had held in abeyance for far too long./Time always comes round right.  I of all people ought to know.  Which means, only one thing left to do./ Hand in hand with Rose Tyler, the Doctor turned his back on the burnt remains of a Maybe, and set off into a future full of Somehows-become-Truths.***Martha paced along the path to Alison Docherty’s flat, here in this altered reality she couldn’t quite credit, as yet.  She’d had to get away; from the Valiant.  From the Doctor, staring at the Master’s body and speaking in a dead voice, with his eyes dead as well, like a doll’s.  Couldn’t stand to watch anyone mourn that ass; had to get on with putting her brain back together.It was a trial, adjusting to a new reality; one in which all the hardships of the past year had never happened.  /Except for us, of course.  We always get the short end of the stick on things like that. In no time, she ran across her target; an altogether less aged-looking, more dynamic Professor Docherty.  One not worn down by a year of agony, privation, and fear.  Rushing up to meet the woman, Martha handed her a bunch of hand-picked flowers before she could talk herself out of it.  Apropos of nothing; at least to Docherty’s mind.  /Because I hope it’ll be easier for you.  For all of us, now.  And likely you don’t remember at all, but…/  “Just to say, I don't blame you.”Docherty stared, completely nonplussed (as one tended to be when a complete stranger dashed up to hand out random blossoms).  “But who are you?”It was all the confirmation Martha needed.  /We all remember.  No-one else does.  Which means… should I stick with the people who do, and who’ll understand because of it?  Or should I get away from them, so that I can try to forget as well?/  Not that she could really get too far away from it.  Her whole family remembered, for one.  /Except Leo.  And Joye and the baby.  Which is a damn good thing, because she’ll now have a better start in life, without a year of malnutrition and stress screwing with her neural development!/Anyroad, it was a good thing, for the most part.  /It’s just… where does that leave us?  The ones who’re still devastated?  And what does that mean for me, and the choice I now have to make?/Upon returning to the TARDIS, she was surprised to find the Doctor alone, off to one side behind a dendritic pylon, staring at something in his cupped palm.  He didn’t appear to have heard her come in, so great was his concentration. Moving up behind him, deadly curious, Martha glanced over his shoulder… and gasped when she saw what was in his hand.  “Oh.  Well, that certainly follows, doesn’t it?” she told him with a smile that even felt as warm as she meant it to be.  /Wait till I tell Jack about this!/ She wanted to see Jack for a lot of reasons, of course, but this?  Was pretty big.  As evidenced by the way the Doctor’s head shot up at her exhalation, eyes wide and startled at her comment.  “Listen.  Don’t…” he began, looking a bit frantic.Martha swiftly lifted a hand to forestall him.  “Not my business.  Anyway, I’ve things to do.”  /But, oh for God’s sake; do it!/ Patting him bracingly on the shoulder, she turned to head for the vast spiral staircase that would take her down to her room.  She was aware, as she left the console chamber, that his eyes followed her until she was gone.  /He’s still a bit of an idiot, that one, if he’s questioning it.  If she could go through that whole saga with the Master and still be here, after being put through a year of wondering, then it’s long since time./If he thought even for a second that, after all that, she wouldn’t agree...  /Well, he’s definitely lost his mind a bit, in there.  Not that we haven’t all, to some degree./Speaking of.  /Time to handle the other part of this; the fallout of such a long time apart, and all we’ve been through./ Stepping down to her room, Martha saw Jack waiting for her on her bed.  Squaring her shoulders, she headed inside to deal with her own romantic entanglements.***Rose wasn’t all that surprised when Jack stated his intention to return to Torchwood, though she did wonder what that meant for him and Martha.  /Though, with Jack, an on-again-off-again is usually the best approach.  You keep him stuck in one relationship for too long, and I bet he’d eventually bolt for the horizon and greener pastures./  She loved that man to death, but he wasn’t a one-person man.  He had too much affection to go around.  It burst out of him in waves; like the tide.  /Too generous by half.  He’d explode or something; and that would just lead to bad feelings.  Best if they cool it a bit, if they’re not both staying in the same place.  Figure it out from there./ She was, however, surprised by the Doctor’s response to the announcement.  “You sure?  I really don’t mind if you stay.”/Wow, that whole thing really did give him some perspective, didn’t it?/Jack was obviously touched, smiling a slow, real smile that appeared briefly unaffected by all that he had suffered in the Year That Never Was.  “I appreciate that.  But you know how it is.  I had plenty of time to think that past year; and I kept thinking about that team of mine.”  Pulling himself up, he darted a brief, apologetic glance toward Martha, who nodded understanding.  “Like you said, Doctor, responsibility.  They’re my people, and I’ve been away long enough.” /Hearing about so many deaths among them…  I understand why./  It hurt, but at the same time… Rose definitely got it.  She even thought the Doctor was a bit let-down about it, despite the relief it might offer his instincts.  Knew very well what it meant when he said, “I’m actually sorry to hear that, Captain.  But…  Defending the Earth.  Can't argue with that.”She well knew what it meant to Jack to hear it, as well.  The approval, the valuation… and the open-ended offer.  “Yeah, well.  Needs must.”  Squaring his shoulders, Jack sketched a salute, then firmly held out his hand.  “Can’t regret it.  Scars or no scars; honour to serve.  As always.”The Doctor didn’t even appear to brace himself before he took the proffered palm.  “It won’t be the last time,” he warned as he shook the man’s hand.“No,” Jack agreed with his usual, easygoing grin, “it probably won’t, will it.” Never one to stand around inside an uncomfortable moment, the Doctor nodded briskly and pivoted to settle his hands on the controls.  “Alright, then.  Cardiff in two minutes.  Everyone brace yourselves.”As they dematerialised, to the accompanying, reassuringly restored noise of the rotors and things, Rose found herself pondering the current line-up.  /I wonder if his decision will play into Martha’s at all./  Either way, she rather thought she knew where that one was going, as well.  /After everything we’ve all been through, I’d be shocked if it went the other way!/As adventures on the TARDIS went, that last year hadn’t exactly been fun and games.A few minutes later, they were on the ground; settled over the Rift, and Jack was assembling his gear to leave.  Once he was laden, they opened the doors, stepped out into the preternatural oddity that was a normal, average day in a normal, average British city. Watching the everyday bustle was so goddamned weird, after everything.  Made it hit even harder, for those in the know.  /No one at all remembers, do they?  No-one but us.  And I don’t doubt that some of us might wish we could forget./Martha seemed a bit ambivalent as well, as she watched the passers-by going on their daily rounds.  “Time was, every single one of these people knew your name,” she mused.  “Now they've all forgotten you.”Never one to wave his light around the bushel once the action was done, the Doctor seemed relieved to know it.  “Good.”The satisfaction there was real, and they could all hear it.  /He really would rather not be known.  To most people, anyway./  But then, that followed, didn’t it?  /The Master was the Time Lord who wanted to be the centre of attention.  The Doctor’s only too glad they’ve forgotten him, ‘cause he’s never wanted that spot./  It was one of the things she loved most about him; these little stabs at humility amid all his wild self-confidence. It made him far more real… and it made him hers.  /Because he lets me know him.  Wants me to, even./  It was pretty wonderful stuff to know that you were one of the few exceptions to that rule.“Well,” Jack interjected into the silence.  “Back to work.” “Wait,” the Doctor called him back.  Grabbing the wrist that bore the vortex manipulator, he applied his screwdriver before Jack could yank it away. Intimately familiar by now with its workings, Rose noted when every dial and readout went blank.  /Oh.  Well, that’s… unilateral./   “Hey!  I need that!” Jack scolded, taken aback, and struggled to retrieve his arm.“I can't have you walking around with a time-travelling teleport,” the Doctor answered sternly without letting go.  “You could go anywhere; twice.  The second time to apologise.”Judging by the caught-out expression on Jack’s face, that might have happened a few times.   That task completed, his arm dropped.  “Alright, well… what about me?” he challenged.  “Can you fix that?  Will I ever be able to die?”/Fuck./  Each mention of his current, un-killable status was like a punch to Rose’s gut.  Likely she would never fully recover from knowing what she’d done to him; especially now, with how it had harmed him over the last dreadful year.  /Easier in some ways not to have to think of it every day.  Even though I’ll miss you no end./“Nothing I can do.”  There was, though, some modicum of affection, maybe even some unwilling admiration in the Doctor’s voice as he added, “You're an impossible thing, Jack.”The title appeared to tickle their friend.  “Been called that before,” he answered with his usual, good-natured aplomb.  With a kiss to Martha’s cheek, he swung his heavy rucksack onto his shoulder.  “See you around, beautiful?”Martha’s smile only had a few small shadows around the edges as she answered.  “You know it.”“Good.”  There was a wealth of satisfaction in his voice as he said it… and a blooming of pleasure on her face when she heard it.Jack then turned to Rose.  “Well.  Guess this is it; for now anyway.”“Yeah.”  /God; I’ll miss you so much!/  Jack was special to her in so many ways, had played such a large part in who she had become, that it hurt every time they were parted.  But at the same time…He held out his arms, probably aware of all she was feeling.  Stepping into his familiar embrace, Rose sighed and slipped her arms under his to cling tightly.  /Hope I’m not hurting him./  He had a lot of healing left to do.  “I really wish there was something I could do, though,” she whispered to him as he unabashedly bent to wrap himself tightly round her.  “Everything you suffered up there…  It was all on me, in the end.”“Not all on you,” he corrected her, likely with a quick flicker of his eyes in the Doctor’s direction.  His voice, when he continued, remained full of reassurance.  “And I wouldn’t change it.  Most days, anyway.”This last rueful addition was understandable, of course.  “Yeah, I suppose it comes in handy sometimes,” Rose managed around the thickness in her voice, the tightness of unshed tears in her throat.  “But I’m still sorry.”“Well…  I am kind of tired of being killed.  But there’s always the hope.  Maybe if I stay away, I won’t have to do it quite so often.”That did it, and the tears fell in spite of her best efforts.  “Yeah, probably,” she agreed, mostly without sobbing all over him.  Not that tears wouldn’t dry off his t-shirt, but…  “I’m gonna miss you, though.”“I know.  All the ladies do!”  With a kiss for her cheek, Jack leaned back to eye the Doctor with his usual saucy regard.  “And some of the men, too.  How about a kiss for the road, Doctor?”With a roll of his eyes, the Doctor allowed himself to be pulled into a quick, three-way hug.  Rose thought she overheard Jack whisper something in the Doctor’s ear as she joined in, wasn’t sure what it meant.  Maybe a private joke between them, left over from that awful year up on the Valiant.  Thought it was something along the lines of, “You should get over yourself and just do it.”  But she dismissed it as none of her business when the Doctor didn’t respond.  She would rather just be one in the moment, anyway.  Lowering her head into the scrum, she closed her eyes on the tears and just held on tight, her arms round both of them, both of them holding tight to her.  /The core group.  The original trio.  And gone, now; for good maybe./End of an era, that.  And maybe past time for it.  But…  /Stop it.  At least we got a bookend.  To think a while back I thought I’d never see Jack again!  So this is fine.  Anyway, he’s just in Cardiff.  We can always pop by for lunch!/As if reading her mind, Jack tightened his hold round her neck and kissed her temple fervently.  “You better look me up the next time you’re in town, though,” he insisted… and forced himself to let go. “Don’t worry,” Rose told him, eyes dancing over to the Doctor’s.  “We will, and he knows it.”The Doctor waved a hand dismissively, but did not demur.Hearing the leeway there, Jack squared his shoulders and wrapped up with a brisk nod.  “Alright.  I’m off.”  Turning to Martha, he gave her a tug to the elbow.  “Just… give us a minute.”“Of course!” Rose answered for the both of them, and pulled the Doctor back inside the door.He grumbled, of course, but he went along with it. She could still see them, though, through the crack.  Watched with interest as the two of them stood for a while; leaning against the railing and looking out over the water.  After a short but heartfelt-looking interaction, they embraced with intensity, shared an enthusiastic kiss; and then with a laugh that sounded thick with her own unshed tears, Martha lifted out her mobile and spent a second tapping away.  “There,” she could be heard to say.  “No excuses, now.”“Don’t need one,” Jack told her, tilted to kiss her again… and then set off toward Torchwood Three, step purposeful.Martha watched him go for a moment before returning to them.  Which meant she was drawing even with the doors when Jack turned back to them.  “One thing I keep wondering,” he called, like it had just occurred to him.  “What about aging?  Because I can't die, but I keep getting older.”  A tiny wince, visible despite the meters between them.  “The odd little grey hair, you know?  What happens if I live for a million years?”/Oh, God…/  Rose hadn’t thought of that at all.  She’d been too busy worrying about the short-term trouble he could get into on any given day.The Doctor sounded truly regretful when he answered.  “I really don't know.”Rose thought she did, though.  /Probably because he’s the only immortal guy around who can’t regenerate.  Never been another one.  Damn./Jack nodded, waving it off with some effort.  “Okay, vanity.  Sorry.  Can't help it.  Used to be a poster-boy when I was a kid living on the Boeshane Peninsula.”  A brief glint of nostalgia lit his handsome features.  “Tiny little place.  I was the first one ever to be signed up for the Time Agency.  They were so proud of me.  ‘The Face of Boe’, they called me.”The words hit all of them like a massive sledgehammer.  Rose barely heard his final addition.  “Hmm.  I'll see you.”  With a last wave, he turned and marched off into Cardiff.“No…” the Doctor breathed.“It can’t be!” Martha agreed, sounding floored.Rose couldn’t stop staring after her friend.  “Can it?”  /That head?  That huge... disembodied…/ Dragging her eyes away from Jack’s disappearing figure, she stared at her bloke, hoping he could disabuse her of that notion.  /All those years?  All the way to New New York?  Please say it can’t be!/“No,” the Doctor repeated finally, and with slightly more insistence.  “Definitely not.  No.”Problem was, she didn’t think he believed it, anymore.  /Oh, wow.  Oh, God!  Did I really meet him on my very first day in the TARDIS?  Is that possible?/As Jack Harkness disappeared into Torchwood’s secret entrance, she thought perhaps it might, in fact, be true.  And what a mind-fuck that was!*   *   *

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EIGHT:
Martha knew he was waiting for her; quietly staying away while she attended the odd reunion between her three family members who unfortunately recalled the last year, and the sibling who had no idea.  /The baby’s still brand-new, as well.  I myself saw her go from six months to eighteen; and now look at her!  Just an infant again!//God, this is all so strange.  I can’t get my head ‘round it.  And maybe I oughtn’t./  Time she admitted to herself how dangerous this life she’d led was to all those she loved.  /And I’m not like Rose.  I still have people to lose!/It was one of the main drivers of her current choice.  /Rose lost her family by travelling with the Doctor, and I don’t intend to have the same thing happen to me!/  Though, it wasn’t all bad, of course.  Her parents certainly weren’t going to get back together… but they were decidedly kinder to each other now, after going through all that lunacy together.  /Wonder if Tish’ll ever dare to work for anyone important or powerful ever again, though.  Might just end up in something satisfying and a bit calmer, without that desperate need to climb, and prove herself.  After all, she helped to bring down a mad megalomaniac!  That has to count for something./Like everything in this insane life, you had to take the good with the bad.  /Like, the good with the baby is, she won’t bear any marks for that year of deprivation.  Thank goodness for all the kids out there, developmentally-speaking./The thought brought her round to recollections of Tom Milligan; a man who had given his life, once; in vain, while trying to protect her.  /And yet, back here, he’s still a paediatric doctor.  And that remains admirable as hell… but who knows how much that year changed him, like it changed all of us.  Which means, if I ever get in touch with him, would he still be someone I’m interested in?/ /Hell; he might be taken.  Which would rather neatly solve the problem.  Who knows who he might have lost, early on.  Anyway, while I’ve stayed changed, he won’t have experienced any of it./Curious, as she watched her family’s uncomfortable interactions, the small-talk of people who didn’t all share the same history anymore, would likely never be the same, she lifted her phone.  Made the call anyway, on impulse.  /Better to know, right?/  “Hi, I'm looking for a Doctor Thomas Milligan.  Could you put me through?”A minute or so of being on hold, the hospital’s standard message scrolling on about the latest NHS vaccine initiative, then a familiar voice came on the line.  ‘Yeah?’It was definitely him.  And yet… he sounded so different!  Still brisk, but also more… open, maybe?  /Speaking of not sharing things anymore./  And, knowing it, did that leave her anything she could say? ‘Hello?’Likely not. ‘Hello?”Unwilling to expose herself to ridicule from someone she fully admired, but had no bloody idea who she was, Martha simply ended the call.  /At least I know he’s alive again./It was just odd!  /All of it’s just so…/Rose appeared behind her; like a genie being summoned.  “Hard to get your head round it, isn’t it?”Martha scoffed.  “You can say that again!”“And I probably will,” she answered with more equanimity in her voice than Martha thought she might ever attain, after everything.  Standing there, watching her family struggle with something between a celebratory reunion—most just grateful to be alive, but probably all of them traumatised—and a confusion that came of knowing that there were some things they likely could never discuss again at a family meal.  Hopefully the gap there wouldn’t pull them all apart, as the years went on.  /And some of that’s on me, for leaving them in his sights.  And yet, if I had just stayed, after we first found out they were in danger, I wouldn’t have had what I did with Jack, and he’s been a blessing./Not that she would have Jack on the TARDIS anymore, of course, if she stayed, so that was yet another facet of her decision-making, now.  She’d known that he’d planned to leave.  They had discussed it, along with their options, both together and apart, while the Doctor and Rose were off cremating that bastard’s body. /I just… don’t know./  She found herself shaking her head.  “Alright, look.  I need your advice.  D’you think I should go?”  She did her best to keep her eyes locked on her family as she added, “Seems a bit pathetic, just hanging around here after all this, just tasking for more trauma.  But at the same time, I can’t help wondering what I’d miss.”Rose sucked in a sharp, pained breath.  Like she wasn’t surprised, but she still hadn’t wanted to field the question.  “I can’t tell you that,” she murmured in sad reply.  “If you should stay or not.  That’s something everyone who travels with him has to decide for themselves.”  To her credit, though, she didn’t say anything to try to convince Martha either way.  Just said, “You know how I feel about it.  But it’s not my choice.”/Yeah, and we know what yours would be, no matter what went down./  That was a given, obviously.  Thought it was nice to know that now more than ever, Rose Tyler thought she had the stuff.  /Means a lot that she’d rather have me there, getting in the way, than having him all to herself, even.  But then, better the devil you know, right?  Knowing the Doctor, he’ll probably pick someone else up at some point, to play third-wheel for them.  Rose probably prefers me because she knows we get along well./Once you’d spent six months raw-camping with someone in an apocalyptic landscape, fighting life-and-death scenarios on the daily, you either had an unbreakable bond forever, or you couldn’t stand to be in the same room.  /Like the Doctor and the Master.  Glad then, that this is the relationship she and I are left with!/So many variables to consider.  The personal, and the wider impacts, as well.  /As pertains to the personal; Jack’s here.  Made the same decision as I’m thinking I will.  A few hours away, but…/  The way they’d left things, the door remained open.  She doubted it would land on being anything regular, but she also didn’t think anything could possibly happen to keep them from remaining exceedingly close friends, no matter how much time passed between meetings.  /And, for the same reason, whether that’s a good basis or not for continuing.  So I suppose I won’t be in this alone.  And I know a lot of others, now, as well.  Sarah Jane…  Oh.  Except, will she remember me?  She wasn’t at the centre when it all snapped back!/ This stuff was like to drive a person mental, trying to keep track of it all.  /Probably not; but I can still go and tell her about it, and she’ll believe it.  Anyone who’s been with him would./In a way, it sounded a nice, happy medium.  /I can still be of help.  And if I do stay, I won’t have to worry all the time what might happen to them./  Her family had definitely been through enough.  /I owe it to ‘em to stay, probably.  It’s not as if I can’t be of use, still.  With a recommendation from Sarah Jane, I might wangle a position with UNIT or something.  Or Torchwood here in London; though that might put me at odds with Jack, if I do.  But I ‘magine the former needs doctors; and god knows I have unfinished business there!/ They might even be willing to finish her training, if she’d lost her position by now.  That sort of organization tended to make deals like that amid their own structure.  “You decided to stay, even when you thought…” Martha felt around the edges of it.  “Even though you knew…”“Yeah, I did,” Rose answered; fully cognisant of all the sides of her struggle. /She’ll know about the family bit.  And yet, she would have stayed whether they were like this or not.  Even if they were still pretending to be just close friends.  Hell; she came back knowing it might be like that.  It’s worth it to her, no matter what shape it takes.  And staying behind… clearly isn’t./  How the hell, exactly, did one arrive at such a state of impossible acceptance?  Like divine grace, or some-bloody-thing!  “How did you know?”Rose hesitated, then sighed and pressed her chin to Martha’s scapula, wrapped supportive arms around her waist.  Giving unquestioned closeness and reassurance, with the unspoken intimacy of all they had shared on the long road home.  It sounded as if she was candidly considering the impossible question; weighing the answer before passing on her lived wisdom.  Then, “I told m’mum once, when I was there, hopin’ to get back here; that bein’ with him was the happiest time of my life.”  Nostalgia gave way to utter confidence, reflected with unyielding surety in her voice.  “And it still is.  Would be even if nothin’ had changed.”  A smile slid into her inflections then, despite the weight of the question they currently shared.  “Both the happiest, and yeah, sometimes the saddest I’ve ever been, as well.  I mean, the last year wasn’t the most fun I’ve ever had…”/It wasn’t much fun for any of us, was it?/  And yet, Rose could apparently just accept that madness as part of the cost of being with him; whereas now?  Martha didn’t think she could.  It was too much.  /I went through hell when I didn’t have to; and so did my people.  Not sure I can ever live with that kind of calculation the way they all seem to be able to do it, and just look forward to the next uncertainty with a smile./“But that’s really living, you know?” Rose added philosophically.  Martha could picture the little, cockeyed, fond smile she likely bore right now.  “That’s how you know.”Martha pondered the matter.  Couldn’t think if she had ever been the happiest she’d ever been in her life while with the Doctor.  She had certainly been the most exhilarated, aside from once saving a life as part of a surgery team.  /Really for the same reason, though, isn’t it?  Because it’s always exhilarating saving a life.  Being successful at it.  Or, hundreds, with him.  That, and seeing the universe, of course./ /But then, there’s also what comes with it./That was the part she didn’t think she could countenance anymore; the part she didn’t think she could excuse, in herself.  /I left once, and they all ended up prisoners.  They’re marked forever by it, and I can’t change that.  That it’s on me, as much as it’s on him, because it would never have happened if I’d just stayed behind, any one of those times./ It was the one might-have-been she couldn’t deal with at all.  /I dunno if, if I left him, the Master might’ve left my family alone.  I’ll never know./     But she also had something to look forward to here, as well, if she stayed.  She knew that when she did it the other way again, someday—saved lives on an operating table, rather than in an ancient, quirky and degrading time-ship—that it would balance out the grief she’d feel for the times when she instead lost patients.  And for the Doctor and Rose, it clearly balanced out the grief that came when they lost things, and people, and failed to fix everything as they’d hoped to do.  /Like in this case.  And she’s right.  That’s really living.  If you stay small, play it safe, you’re not doing it right./ So maybe someday, she’d end up saving lives in a slightly different capacity than before.  Join UNIT, like so many other past companions had done.  Be a doctor there… because it really did seem to be her best option, after all she’d seen.  Doing that would also satisfy the horizons of her that had been expanded to the point that a normal life would no longer suffice.  But…  /Do I have to have that part—the part out there, in the stars—to be happy?/ Honestly, she didn’t think she did.  Which left only the one question.  How did she want to go about saving lives?  And more importantly, did she want to do it with her loved ones nearby and accessible, or while out star-hopping with them, as a helpful third-wheel…  /And have none of the rest.  Which; I know they’re managing it.  Him as well as her, since she’s taking the place, for him, of an entire planet.  Which, let’s just say, sounds a bit codependent.  Also a bit mad, and I hope the hell the weight of it doesn’t crush her!  And he’s got to make up for her for the family she’ll never see again; him and whatever friends she makes along the way.  Like scraps of lives being sewn together over massive, festering wounds that’ll never heal; and you have to pray that the gauze will hold, and that the sutures won’t break under the strain./It sounded precarious as hell to Martha.  /But it’s the life they’ve chosen, and they seem happy with it.  Because they have each other.  And I have to move on, if I’m ever to make my peace with all this.  I know that, too./ /The difference for me from them is that I can make a difference in both places, and they obviously feel like they can only do it from here.  So I’ve more of a choice./ A blessing and a curse, that.  If you had a choice, you had to make it.  If you didn’t, you might be trapped, but you were saved the existential crisis.  /In that way, though… I don’t think I am happier or more fulfilled for having met the Doctor.  Sometimes, I actually miss my life before that; the ignorance-is-bliss peace of mind I’ll never get back.  I was definitely less stressed about the world in general.  Medical studies are tough, and demanding; and yeah.  I throve on that challenge.  But it was just life.  Just regular school stuff and all that.  And part of me still wonders what my life would have been like if I hadn’t met him, there on the airless moon./ She didn’t regret it, per se.  Couldn’t.  But she did wonder.  That was also a visible difference, because she knew for a fact that Rose never thought that way.  /She doesn’t what-if about it.  Probably because she’s already lived the alternative and decided it didn’t suit her.  Which means she actually knows the difference.  I reckon that means she’s definitely happier.  Because even if she was stuck here—say, working for UNIT, or with Jack at Torchwood—she wouldn’t be.  She had that back in that other world, and the only thing she could think of was to get back here, to him./That really said it all, didn’t it.  /Meanwhile, if I have to question it… then that’s likely my answer./Rose must have seen the decision on her face, or felt it in her stance.  “So… you’re leavin’, then?” she asked softly.  She sounded sad about it, but also accepting. Martha sighed and covered her friend’s hands with her own on her belly, while she watched her family struggle through the new sunrise.  “Yeah, I think so.  After this… I just don’t think I can do it anymore.”  She exhaled heavily, glad that having finally said it aloud, she didn’t feel as melancholy as she thought she might.  “Not that I’m not glad to have done it.  Helped with all this.  But I can go on helping without going on with you lot.”  She felt a tiny smile touch her lips; one full of sardonic amusement.  “At heart, I’m a doctor, not a commando.” Rose laughed; a response mostly without overt sorrow in it.  “You make a hell of a commando, though.”“Cheers.”  She meant it, too.  It helped a lot to know that Rose saw her.  Really saw what she could do, knew she would go on doing great things even back here, with her feet on the ground. /But then, she always has.  Wonder if he does, now./  If he didn’t… it was fine.  She knew she had accomplished something monumental; all on her own, out there.  Something even Rose hadn’t been able to stick to, in the end.  And that was…After all that time spent with him, aware that every moment he was likely thinking to himself, “If Rose were here, she would have said or done this or that…” she no longer had to wonder if that were, in fact true, because she knew.  And because of it, Martha no longer felt as if she were competing with that voice in his head for her own merits.  /I’ve proven my worth, and then some!/ And that was the other big reason.  /Or, part of it./  “Thing is…  My friend Vicky, she lived with this bloke.  Student housing.  There were five of them all packed in; and this bloke was called Sean.  And she loved him.  She did.  She completely adored him.  Spent all day long talking about him.”  She shook her head, her eyes filling with a skim of tears for what it all meant, and the dream she was letting go.  /Because even with all of it, I still do.  Adore him; and I can’t seem to change that./She really ought to have shifted from her admittedly violent crush, after all this.  After what she’d seen him do, that she could never truly accept.  /I know that it all comes from a place of impossible integrity, is the thing.  And that’s admirable, even if it causes pain to others.  And that’s another reason, right there, to stop.  To get out while I still can.  Before he decides to do it for me, sometime, like he did with her.  Because he will, if it’ll save me; and that’d wreck me.  It nearly wrecked her./  “But he never looked at her twice.  I mean, he liked her, but that was it.” She sucked in a hard, stabilising breath.  /That’s the core of it./  “And she wasted years pining after him.  Years of her life.  Because while he was around, she never looked at anyone else.”  /And here, there’s Jack, when I want him to be there; and maybe I’ll meet Tom again… or maybe there’ll be someone else I haven’t met yet, who’ll completely turn my life around.  In a quieter way—not like him, obviously—but in a better way, for me, in the long run./  “And I told her; I always said to her, time and time again, I said, ‘Get out!’”  She half-turned in Rose’s loving, sisterly embrace, let her see it.  The decision in her eyes.  “So this is me, getting out.”Rose watched her for a moment, then sighed.  Nodded acknowledgment and, lifting up a bit, kissed Martha on the cheek.  “He’ll be sorry about it.  And you know I am.”“I know that, too.”  /I do.  And it means more than I can say./  “Er, I probably should tell you this, though.  Get it all out on the table, before we part company.  I have kissed him, once.”  She tried to blow it off with a philosophical smile, though likely she didn’t succeed.  “First day I met him.  Hard to get over, that.”  /Still managing the hangover of a thing that was never really offered me, and that was always for another.//Really time to get out./To her relief, Rose rolled her eyes skyward, looking less startled or annoyed than just resigned.  “Course you did.”  Came out sounding more like, ‘Course he did’, though.At least it didn’t come with any angry or betrayed denunciations.  Still, Martha felt the need to defend the situation.  /But wait till you hear the context./  “For good reason, though, if it helps any.  He had to transfer my DNA to his face so he didn’t get caught out as an alien to these weird, space-pig-police things.  Like huge rhinoceroses with disintegrator beams.”  Catching Rose’s blink, “Long story.  My hospital was teleported to the moon and all.”Rose snorted in amusement.  “Just another Tuesday.”“Right.  Anyway.”Rose waved a tolerant hand, apparently prepared to be philosophical about it.  “Glad you told me now,” she admitted gamely, “and not before I got my own share of kisses, or I migh’t’ve had a few bad days over it.”Martha remained baffled that those two hadn’t been snogging the entire time, in that past of theirs.  But knowing that somehow they hadn’t, and how that might affect her very rewarding relationship with this woman, she let out a sigh of relief.  “Figured so.  ‘S why I waited till now.”  /Alright./  “And there’s another thing; something you need to know about a lot more.”  If she could manage it, she would do her best to do right by them before she left them to it. Rose visibly braced herself, likely hearing the intensity on Martha’s voice.  “Alright.  Give it to me; both barrels.” “Well…  A weird thing happened while we were back in 1969, that I never told you about.”  /A lot going on, then./  “Someone saying they were the Doctor came to me in the shop and talked to me for a bit while I was restocking things.  Asked me for help.”  And here was the kicker.  “A different Doctor.  Just grabbed me up and ran off with me.  Said she couldn’t ask you, because it might create a paradox.”  /And let me tell you; it was nice to hear her say that she wanted me.  That I wasn’t just because she couldn’t use you that time./  “Which, God knows we don’t need any more of those…”“Wait.  She?” /Hence my dropping that bomb./  “Yeah, that’s the thing I thought you ought to know.  That if it really was the Doctor, they were female.  And I think it was, because the way she behaved…”She trailed off expressively.  Could see the gears turning inside Rose’s head, while she stood there, arms crossed and head down; pondering all the possibilities and the ramifications of such an occurrence.  Then, “What did she ask you to do?”“Oh, right.”  Martha wondered what Rose would think of this.  “We went and stopped that…  That thing he keeps fighting.  The one Jo Grant mentioned.  The Nestene Consciousness.  Stopped it from taking over the city…”   At this, Rose’s head popped up like a jack-in-the-box.  “Really?  The Nestene Consciousness came back for another go?  Were there Autons?”/Good to know she’s not jealous or anything./  “The plastic people?  Yeah, but that’s not the big thing.  This Doctor; she mentioned that you would know what to do, because you already fought it once…”“First day we met,” Rose verified with some satisfaction.“Alright.  But she didn’t confirm if you were there that time, or not.  I mean, given she wouldn’t ask you to help, it leads me to believe you were there; somewhere off in the back, where I didn’t see you.  But obviously I can’t swear to it.”Rose nodded, eyes far away.  “We can’t know.  All we can do is give it our all while we have it, and go from there.”Once again, Martha was left baffled.  /How can you live like that?  With that much uncertainty?  And yet here she is; thriving on it the way I did in med school.  Mental./  “Alright, but if it is…  How’re you gonna deal with that, when it comes?  Him not being a him?”To her surprise, Rose just shrugged that one off like it was an unimportant detail, so long as her own presence in the timeline was somewhat assured.  “I dunno.  I never thought about it.  Wouldn’t be surprised if he tried it at least once, if he hasn’t already.  Should ask.”  A faint, preoccupied smile touched at her full, expressive lips; all fondness, all insane acceptance.  “But I guess I’ll know when I come to it.  If I’m there at all.”/Mad./  “See, I just couldn’t look at the future like that, with so much ambiguity, and roll with it like you do.  I like to have a plan.”Rose nodded, arms still crossed protectively across her chest.  “Alright, but when it comes to a partner…  We all change a lot.  I know I have, already, and it’s only been a couple of years...”/As one does./“We just have to hope we stay near enough to the same people to keep makin’ it work.”  Her mouth twitched up at one corner, in a sort of acknowledging half-smile.  “A lot don’t, even in a normal relationship.  But, I mean, look at me.  I was nineteen when he picked me up.  I’ve changed leaps and bounds from who I was the day I met him, and we still work; even if my mum thinks I’m also turning into an alien…”Martha felt her Doctor-honed sense of the ludicrous rise to the occasion.  “Well, you do like Tank-Beef a whole lot,” she teased, and felt her throat close a bit at the thought that she might never have such wild adventures again.  /And, it’s the right thing./It was enough, and Rose’s tangible anxiety vanished in a hearty laugh.  “Yeah, well.  I just have to hope I still have the stuff to keep up in a few years.”  A tiny, heartfelt sigh.  “And I suppose, that he still wants me then.” /Please./  Martha would like to soothe her on that score, but it was in no way her place.  So in lieu of that more solid reassurance, “Oh, I don’t think you’re in any danger there.  He looks at you like a religious figure, almost.  Like that thing you did with the Vortex raised you up on such a high pedestal that he can’t even see past you.”  /Another reason it might be a relief to get out.  I like it that I’ve finally been noted, but it might be the last time… and I’ll always wonder if it was worth the cost.//Take it and run is what I say.  My crowning achievement, if he’s taken notice of me while peering round the bright, golden glow of Rose Tyler./  And she would, in fact, hold that tight to her breast when the inevitable misgivings hit, for the unexpected choice she had made. Rose’s smile was a bit more assured when she answered.  “Well, that’s nice to hear, considerin’ most folks would think I’m the one beneath him.”  The smile faded out a bit, then.  “I know he wanted the Master back, if he could’ve made it work, because he understood his brain…”“Never believe it!” Martha interrupted staunchly.  “You both make mistakes, and you’re both stupid in love, so I’d say you’re even.”  /Since in the end he did manage to pull it out.  Otherwise, you might still be head and shoulders above him, in my book./  “Anyway, he needs you to keep him honest.”  /God knows what kind of trouble he’d get into, without her.  Probably destroy the universe trying to save it, one of these days!/Rose looked fully invested in said role.  “I know it,” she answered with no small amount of smug pleasure.  “I promise; I’ll do my best to keep him right-sized.”“Then that’s all any of us can ask.”  Martha’s eyes drifted back over to her family.  “Guess I better go tell ‘em I’ll be stepping out.”“Alright,” Rose agreed, and turned to head back across the garden.  “We’ll be waiting.”/But I won’t, anymore.  I’ve got a life to live, here; and time I got on with it./  With a sharp nod for motivation, Martha made for the kitchen and her improbably intact family; grateful indeed for what she had.***As Rose stepped inside the TARDIS and pulled the door to a slight crack, the Doctor closed with her.  “Is she staying?” he asked softly./Mission accomplished, there./  He hadn’t asked her to go find out, per se, but she had done so as much for his benefit as for her own.  He’d want fair warning, if Martha did choose what she had.  /And rightly so, so he doesn’t get his hearts broken about it./  He might not be left alone, now that their friends had both moved on… but it still hurt him when anyone departed this life. He might pretend otherwise, but he’d been hoping harder than he wanted to, with Jack.  /But this one’s taken a lot out of everyone.  Including you, I know./  It had wrecked him in a lot of little ways that they might not get past for a long time, that the Master had declined to stay with him.  /He always want them to stay with him; no matter what.  Even if it hurts.  To choose him; and especially now, after the way he lost that knob./ He was likely struggling a bit with his self-esteem after the recent train-wreck.  After someone choosing to literally expire rather than to remain at his side.  /But I’ll always choose to stay, and he knows it.  That’s what I’m here for; to stand in for all the ones as can’t.  And it’ll have to do./He liked Martha, was the thing of it.  She knew he did, so of course it was going to sting a bit.  /But can he really blame her?/  “It’s been a rough year,” she explained softly, by way of letting him down easy.  /And she was there with me for most of it.  And I’ll miss her like crazy./  Huddled together for warmth with Martha, discussing their fears, their dreams, their wishes for the future.  She had never had somebody to talk to like that; truly like a sister.  No-one since Shareen, whenever she’d stayed over.  Missed that feeling; would go on missing it, it seemed, hereafter.  /And a lot of it is stuff she wants to forget.  I likely would, too, if I were her.//But, I don’t want to./  She watched her Doctor struggle with it; with all he might wish to forget, and all that he must remember, if he meant to go on, and remain himself. A short, charged silence ensued, full of weighty things they had yet to examine.  Then, “Yeah,” he agreed finally.  “It has.”/Ouch./  “This whole thing; it’s not all it’s cracked up to be, for some,” she informed him gently.  “Depends on what you experienced.  And she mostly experienced…”“Not a lot of fun,” he finished for her, and she heard the regret, the sorrow on his voice for the inarguable truth of the matter.  “I did try!”The protest hit hard, with everything they had just endured.  /I know you did./  She turned to face him, before he could get all wound up.  “Anyway, don’t look at me like that.  Yeah, it was an awful year…”  She cupped his face, loving him all the more for it.  /That you survived it, and came back to me./  “But you know my mileage varies.”His hand rose, his fingers brushing her cheek in turn.  Nudging her fringe away from her eyes, tracing his thumb over her lips.  “It usually does.”  His smile, as he said it, was proud… and it was impossibly grateful.About a half-hour on, and Martha was back inside.  She’d long since packed up, Rose knew; only by way of being prepared, but also in that way that people tended to do when they had already half-decided something, just hadn’t had the time to fully talk it through yet, to examine the idea for flaws.  /She was ready to go the second the year snapped back, and didn’t take us along with it.  And I can’t blame her at all for that./ It was, after all, the hell of a year. “Alright then!” Martha began as she stepped inside; beginning, likely, how she meant to go on.  She even sounded cheerful about it.  “This is where I get off.”Warned, the Doctor remained a bit sorry about it, still.  “You’re not stayin’, then?”The regret on her face was minimal, the relief by far the stronger emotion.  “No.  Not anymore.  That was enough.  Anyway, this was always a temporary thing, for me, and it’s gone on longer than I expected it to.”  She gestured behind her, to the house across the garden.  “And my family needs me.  I’ve learned firsthand that I have to protect them from this life that I’ve lived with you.  Part of me will always wonder if I shouldn’t have left the first time, when they were in danger.”  The shadows in her eyes were big as life; would take the hell of a long time to fade.  “But I did; and look what happened.”  /Ouch again./  That was real, a part of her trauma, so she’d probably needed to say it… but it would still hurt him to hear it. The Doctor’s response was understandably tight with pain; so much so that Rose moved in to catch up his hand and hold it tight.  “That’s not on you,” he told their friend quietly.  “It’s on me.”/Always taking full responsibility, for all of it.  I hope it won’t break you, someday./ “Still,” Martha insisted, and shot Rose a pointed smile.  “And, of course, Jack’s staying.  That’s a driver, too, I’ll admit.  Maybe I’ll see how that goes, for a while.”/You could do way worse.  But I get that you both have a lot of things to deal with… and that it might be easier for the both of you to hide from it for a while./  Jack might do some of his hiding amidst the occasional threesome, if she knew him at all.  He’d really missed his team.  Martha was likely to go back and bury herself in her studies.  Immersion in lieu of therapy; either in the practical, or in sheer hedonism.  Not that Jack didn’t deserve to feel good, after all that had been done to him; and not that Martha didn’t deserve to attain her degree, after all she had accomplished as a makeshift doctor in that lost year.  /Meanwhile, who knows what I’ll do, or what he’ll do, to cope.  But whatever it is, it’ll be what we need to do./  “He’s a lot of fun, and his heart’s in the right place.  Tough to share him, though.”  /Which you have to do, with Jack Harkness./“I’ve noticed,” Martha answered dryly, because they all knew that was a given.  “And I’ve made other connections, here; with others who’ll maybe understand.”  She shot the Doctor a bashful sort of smile, then, by way of letting him know that even with all that had just gone down, there were no hard feelings overall.  “I’ve got to move on, anyway.  If I keep hanging around with you, I’ll never give another bloke a chance.”/At least it sounds like she’s not going to spend herself over Jack like her friend did with that other bloke./  Jack wasn’t the sort for long-term commitments in that way… but he was the sort for long-term dependability; so if you needed that, then he was your man.  /Not always there when you want him, but definitely always there when you need him.  I think that’ll help her, in the long run, knowing it./“Anyway, I have to stand with humanity as we move on into this new, larger age.  And with everything I’ve seen, I think I’m a pretty good candidate to help them do that.” The Doctor’s face bloomed into the first genuine smile Rose had seen on him since everything had come crashing down, a year ago.  “You’re going to be wonderful at it,” he told their friend; and he clearly meant it. /Believe it.  He sees you, Martha.  He knows this is farewell, so of course he’s sad… but he appreciates your reasoning.  And he can’t but applaud your dedication./“Anyway, you have Rose.”/He sure does.  Can’t be rid of me!/“You need her to stay with you… and I need to stay here.”  With a sigh that sounded resolved, even satisfied, Martha shrugged a bit.  “I spent all these years training to be a doctor.  Now I've got people to look after.  They saw half the planet slaughtered, and they're devastated.  I can't leave them.”“Of course not.”  He looked down briefly, gathering himself, then, “Thank you.”  And, pride wreathing his features for her, “Martha Jones, you saved the world.”    It was all she’d needed, all this time.  Rose loved the way she drew herself up, as if hearing it had filled her with strength.  “Yes, I did.  I spent a lot of time with you thinking I was second best, but you know what?  I am good.”“You are indeed.”Rose could see what it meant to Martha to hear it.  Let go of the Doctor’s hand to rush over and give her friend one more spontaneous hug, there by the door.  “You’re fantastic, actually,” she insisted vehemently in Martha’s ear.  /Not that you needed to hear it from me.  For you, the most important thing is that he knows you finally; and fair play.  And he does!  He really sees you, now, and knows you for what you are.  And that’s a hero!/ Martha Jones was a legendary being in her own right.  “No question; he chose very well the day he met you.”  /Very well indeed!/As they dragged out that last hug, though, Martha surprised her with another urgent message.  “Before I go, there’s one other thing you really need to know, after all this,” she murmured, voice so low that Rose wasn’t sure if the Doctor could hear it over there by the console.  “I know he’s been torn up about letting it happen; what went on up there.  Not that he could stop it, but…”/What’s she saying?/ “But there were all these times, early on, before you came back, when it seemed like he was just done.  Like he was almost daring whatever it was that week to…  I dunno; kill him in line of duty.  He was so reckless—like he was almost demanding it—that made me want to stay and help him for that reason, too.”/Oh.  She’s saying that especially after the Master, he might be suicidal, somewhere under it all./  She had to sit with it for a second before she realised the truth of that, as well.  /But, I knew that, too./  “Then I’m triple-glad he had you to hold him together, while I was gone.”  Rose leaned in, kissed her dear friend on the cheek.  “But thanks for lettin’ me know.  I’ll give him hell for that later.”Martha grinned at her, all sobriety fled in the face of womanly certitude.  “You do that.”  Then she pulled back and, raising her voice, eyed the Doctor pointedly.  “Don’t have to ask if you’re going to be alright.”He only smiled at her.  Still a little sad, but rallying.  Nothing on his face to say he’d overheard their whispered consultation; but then, if he had, he might never let on.  /And if he does, it’ll be in private, later.  Much later, once he’s had time to sit with it./Either way, she was on it. “Right then.”  Martha’s eyes caught once more on Rose.  “Keep my number, because I'm not having you lot disappear.  If that rings…”  She adjusted, went back in.  “When that rings, you'd better come running.  Got it?”“Got it!” Rose spoke, heard the Doctor saying it too, at the same time.  /And that’s a promise!  “This time, I won’t miss it.”“You better not!  And, you know…  Call me if you need me, as well!”It was an exceedingly generous offer, given what she’d so recently suffered.  One given in very good faith, and Rose would honour it.  “We will.”“Good.” Rose didn’t mind when they stepped aside for their own goodbye, of course.  As they shared a final hug, and he even unbent enough to settle into it for a mo’.  Stepping back toward the console, she gave them that moment.  It was one they deserved, after all.Oddly, Rose thought she overheard another mysterious little exchange, breathed between them before her friend departed.  “You should just do it, before she can get away again.  You deserve to be happy.”/Do what?  But yeah, he does.  Not that he’ll ever believe it.  Not entirely./Probably no one who wasn’t named Rose had ever told him that before, based on his startled response.  “I do?” he answered, sounding amazed by the very thought.  “Have the right?”  Like he was stunned that Martha still thought so, after everything.“To be happy?  All of us do.  You especially.  You’re waaay too selfless.”  She tousled his hair with vast affection, visibly lighter now that she had made her choice.  “Be selfish, for once.”Baffled, Rose watched him wince, suck in some air between his teeth.  “I dunno…”/I'm gonna have to get to the bottom of this at some point./  All the hidden messages were starting to become a bit annoying.“She wants you to," Martha went on firmly. /Want him to what?/"Take my word for it.  She’s gone on you, same as you are on her.  It takes one to know one." That much was true.  /And she didn't even wince when she said it!/"And she’s gonna be there, in the future.  I’ve seen it.”This last appeared to utterly amaze the Doctor.  “Wh…  You have?”“Yeah.  Or, at least, evidence of it.  Trust me.”  Stepping away, “I’ll see you again, mister.”It took a second for his expression to clear, but in the end he managed a nod and a genuine smile for her benefit.  “Alright, then, Martha Jones.  Go forth and be wonderful.”“And thank you,” Rose added, waving, her hand once more captured in his.  “Remember what you did.”  /He sees you.  He does; look at him.  He sees you!  Believe in it!/As for what had just passed between them, she’d get to the bottom of it later.  /First, we’ve got his grief to deal with, among a million other things, so…/“I will.”  Glowing with it, Martha Jones stepped off the TARDIS, and with a nod, bid them a final farewell.  “See you around.”“Definitely.”  Stepping back inside, Rose waved as they pulled the door closed.  /I’m gonna miss you.  Be well, Martha Jones.  More than that.  Be happy./*   *   *

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NINE:
He’d somehow managed to hold it together for all the time they had had to spend fixing things up and dispatching people to their various corners of the world.  It was his way of turning the tide; confronting everyone’s darkness one by one.  /Everyone else’s, before his own.  If ever./  He was even acting somewhat normally whilst setting everybody back down where they wanted to be… but with her especial insight, Rose could tell that actually, he was barely holding it together. Her pleasure and her honour was that there was a part of him that no-one else got to see; the unsure part, the part that needed her help.  /Because I do.  I’m his witness.  I get to really know him, and not to be pushed away for it, the way he does with others.  I get to stay close, even though I think it scares him how intimate we’ve gotten.  How far I’ve gotten inside.  Because he knows he needs me there./Deeply conscious of what that meant, she waited to try to soften him up till there was just them, and he could safely fall apart without anyone else watching.  /He carries too much.  More even than he ought.  And he already had a lot!/ For one thing, she knew he felt like he hadn’t done enough, when it came to the Jones family.  To Martha, specifically (and it hadn’t helped at all that she’d voiced it.  Not that she hadn’t had the right, but).  With Jack as well, given all he had suffered.  /And me.  He likely feels bad that I had to go through that year, as well./He oughtn’t, of course.  He’d never fully accept this as part of their unspoken agreement, but to her mind, that was precisely what she was here for.  To stand by him while, for instance, he cremated his old frenemy; and then to hold him while he fell apart over all of it.  /And to do that, I had to be there for the rest; so I could understand it!/ He’d wanted to wrap up the funereal rights for the Master on his lonesome, like he did everything; because as ever, his first instinct tended to be to send people away.  She had, of course, flat refused to leave him alone during such an unfathomably difficult task.  After all, in her mind—and maybe to his, as well—such abandonment would be far too symbolic.  Especially after the way that bastard had left him reeling. Eventually he had given in to the unyielding fact of her presence, like he always did.  Not because he owed her, or because he pandered to her demands; but because deep inside and whether he wanted to admit to it or not… he’d needed her there.  /And now he has the time and the space to grieve, he’ll need me again./  She knew it sure as breathing.She had let him have his convoluted moment, back at that quarry.  Stayed back, so that he could feel her presence, but didn’t have to tend to her in any way.  Just there, for if and when he had wanted her.  And in the end, of course, he had come to her of his own accord.  /I’m so glad I’m here to help him survive this; like everything.  Here to help him keep his hearts intact when the world keeps trying to rip them right out of him, destroy his beautiful, frayed soul.  I’m here to hold him together; and maybe someday, to make him really smile again./There was a whole year of separation between them, though; yet again, dammit.  Another year spent painfully apart; half of it so close and yet so far, and all of it filled with emotions they hadn’t shared, experiences they hadn’t leavened in one another.  They had had to make that choice for everyone’s sake… but now, with that interval, there was a new strain between them.  A wall to be broken down, once more. She was even sure she knew the origin of it.  /It’s not just the deaths he witnessed, and the torment.  Yeah, he’ll feel as if he has to pay for all that, even if it was taken back for most everyone.  But it’ll bother him that in balance, he put the people closest to him through hell; one he can never take that back for us even if it all snapped back for everybody else./The words were out before she really had time to ponder their impact.  “We can go see Sarah Jane and Jo and the rest.  The Brigadier, Benton, Liz Shaw.  If you want.  So you can see that they’re back, and alright.”He didn’t turn, but she saw when his back hunched a bit under the weight of it.  “No.  Better if…  If they go on without knowing.  What happened to them.  Keep the break clean.”/Ah.  As in, you’d rather not face them, and have to say goodbye again, even to reassure yourself that they’ve survived all this.  Even if it heals your hearts in one way, it’ll destroy it in another./It made sense.  The heartfelt farewells always had been the hardest thing for him.  /Enough, maybe, that he had to do it with both Jack and Martha, today.  Enough to know that none of them remember what they went through in his name./Hell.  If he could have wangled it for them to all be outside the Valiant in those final moments, managed it all alone, he would have done.  She knew that too; so that they wouldn’t recall any of it.  So that they might slough off the scars, forget the hurts; starvation, hardship, abuse, et al.  /But it doesn’t work that way.  We were all in the same place in the end because we work together.  It’s what we do.  Fight the storm from the eye of it./Where he was visibly agonised over it, she was simply grateful.  /No way could I let him take all that on alone and keep it, while I forgot it.  Talk about leaving him alone!  Thank goodness, actually, that I was up there on that bloody ship when the paradox snapped back, and not down in Uruguay or something!  Especially now, with everyone else movin’ on.  He badly needs someone with him who gets it!/ The weight of the wounds she’d earned would stay with her, as well.  They would both have trauma to sift through.  Still, while she remained unutterably glad to have had it happen exactly the way it did, he would feel the opposite about it.  Likely it was the one guilt he simply couldn’t get out of.  /That I have to remember all of it.  That I not only suffered, but that I could have forgotten it, and didn’t./Add to that, she had seen him ancient and doddering.  Perceived him as he really was under cover of his human-like regeneration-suit.  /He had better not wonder if I still want him, because of that./  Such doubts were nonexistent, by now, for her part, but for him?  /Not sure how he feels about it.  And he’ll know I’m still reeling a bit over that business with the Master.  Because I still wonder, with everything the prat did to us, tried to do to me…  Did he really mean it, that he forgives him?  Or did he just say it because clearly, a ponce like that would hate hearing it?/ A new thought struck then; one that made her heart shrink in on itself, because of how very probable it was.  /Or worse, is it because he feels in the end it’s more his fault?  His responsibility, even, than the Master’s?  Even what he tried to do to me?/ It’d be like him, given technically it was all done to get his attention.  /Or, I suppose, because he feels he enabled it while tryin’ to get through to the guy?/  Knowing the Doctor, he’d likely consider all that occurred as his lookout, while at the same time thinking the origin of it all was just ‘the Master doing what he does’.  It would make a twisted sort of sense if he did.  Given the Doctor’s reaction to all that nonsense, likely it was how his former friend had always behaved, in the past.  /Does he think it all falls to him because he knew that nutter tends to do such insane things as a matter of course?//God.  Why does the world keep finding ways to punch him in the hearts?//But again, that’s why I’m here.  When the universe smacks him about, I’m the one meant to heal him./  She absolutely treasured the role, hoped like hell that they would get a break for her to employ her unique skillset in said endeavour.  At least for a few days, because he badly needed it.  /Likely I do, as well.  And while I know we should get back to that vanishing stars bit, now this nonsense with the Master’s run its course…/Well.  They weren’t precisely in the best mental state to deal with it another crisis if it did rear its head.  /Just give us a day or two.  That’s all I’m askin’.  Because he badly needs to fall apart first, before we can put him back together enough to handle another emergency./As if in confirmation of her suppositions, his voice picked up as he shut off the TARDIS; set them adrift in Earth-local space.  The beginnings of the expected confessional; and one that, thankfully, he didn’t even attempt to avoid.  “I cost them so many lives, Rose.  So much pain…”At least he wasn’t running from the grief, or trying to lock it away and just go on as if it wasn’t there, weighing him down.  But what the falling apart might look like, she wasn’t sure, though it seemed to be in progress.  She hadn’t seen him truly lose it yet, to the extent he’d likely need to in this instance. She had seen him furious before; screaming, lost to reason, demanding that a Dalek “just die!”  Had seen the tears in his eyes whilst saying goodbye to her… but not the immediate aftermath.  Of the War, or of their parting.  And now she would.  /And I can handle it, Doctor.  I promise; so don’t try to put it away.  I’m here.  Whatever you need./After all, she was fairly sure she would need her own share of soothing as well.  “We got them back,” she reminded him softly.  /Will he want me close, yet, or…/Nodding, he faced her with troubled eyes pleading for a more personal pardon.  “And it cost us a year apart.  I’m so sorry, Rose.”She knew what was behind that agonised apology.  That he had committed the cardinal sin of ill-using what little time they had with one another, in the grand scheme of things. Well, she would absolve him of that much, at least.  “It wasn’t my best year, but I’ll live.”  Anyway, to hell with his guilt-trip and all!  /And to hell with him holding himself apart from me, like he’s sinned or some-bloody-thing!/Reaching out, she pulled him tight to her.  Held him close, so that he would know she forgave him without her needing to say it.  /It’s been a pretty harrowing year for all of us.  You as well./  She wondered if he knew that for her, it had been far worse to survive those last minutes.  To wonder what would become of them, in the face of his having impossibly regained a fellow Time Lord.  /But I know what it means for him to have lost that, as well.  To have to live that pain all over again.  So.  Here we are./ He would likely run the gamut.  Rage as well as grief.  Fury, at what had been denied him, along with a simple, base gratitude that she remained here to hold him.  That he hadn’t lost her in his headlong drive to keep something that had never been his, and never would be. She could feel the echoes of it in him already; of what it had been like to feel that kinship again only to have it reft from him for another, more final time.  Not in the heat of battle, this time.  Not in the millions, but merely this.  One man, in one moment; dying in his arms simply because he would rather do that than go on with the only other of his kind who remained in the entirety of the universe. /God.  How has that made you feel?/ She sensed the shift in him, when he finally let go.  Felt it in the tears wetting her top.  In the way he clung to her; tightly enough that his fingers might leave bruises on her shoulder-blades.  She didn’t wince as she held him to her breast; stooped over, his head pressed to her chest so he could focus in on the sound of her single heart, which beat solely for him.  Honing in on it; to remember, and to keep himself with her.  To know that he was wanted, and loved, and valued here.  A method by which he might even keep his thoughts from straying into the deepest pits of despair that threatened.  And all she could say, though it was small consolation, was, “I’m here.  I’ve got you.  I’m here.”  And finally, after he had wept himself dry, “I’m sorry about it.  But I hope you know… that it wasn’t about you.  It was about him.”He didn’t answer.  Nodded wordlessly, slipping a hand up to clasp hers tightly where it lay on his shoulder. Probably not a good idea to point out that in that one thing, the Master had been quite correct.  /I know how badly you wanted it, but it simply wasn’t doable./ Still, he was certainly allowed to fall apart over it.  “Hey,” she repeated the message, till he could know it.  Made to pull him up into a more comfortable and thorough embrace.  “I’m here.  I’m never leaving you.”  /He chose to.  I swear to you, I never will!  Know it!/ And he must.  Still stooped, he nuzzled gratefully between her breasts, into her throat, open mouthed and a bit of a mess.  And after a moment of wordless expression, it was clear what he intended.  Which…  Yearlong separation aside, it was the first time she could possibly imagine actually wondering if it would be the right thing to do.  “You’re dealin’ with a lot right now,” she reminded him softly, hands now in his hair.  “You sure you…”  No answer, as he went on burrowing into her; helplessly, like he was falling.  And on one hand, she got it.  She really did.  With everything that had just been torn away from him, the tangible reassurance of palpable contact could be as necessary as it had been the first time, when he’d been so impossibly terrified that he might still lose her.  An echo, even, of that same dread; but this time because he had, in fact, lost someone he felt he’d needed with equal fervour. It made sense that now he needed in turn to know that she, of all people, wouldn’t be ripped from his grasp.  /Alright, but…/  Thing was, whether she wanted to oblige or not (and god knew she did), she didn’t know if it was what he truly needed right now.  /For one thing, I’m not sure healing with sex actually works./ On the other, though, it would at least help him to forget for a moment.  Stop dwelling in it till he could get enough emotional distance to deal with it from a slightly safer vantage.  Which was likely what he was aiming for anyway; along with a bit of mutual comfort.  /And if that’s the case, I’m definitely not opposed.  I’ve a few things I’d prefer not to dwell on m’self at the mo’./  Add to that, she had of course racked up her own uncertainties, with all that had just passed.  /And a little reconnecting wouldn’t hurt either of us, after everything we’ve just faced and nearly lost; here, between us./  “Are you sure you want to do this now?  I know you’re in mourning…” “I need you.”  Stark, earnest… and he shouldn’t have to plead with her for something she would happily give anyway. /Well.  More than one way to deal with this.  And this same set of problems will be here whenever this happens. May as well face it down./ /Anyway, it’s a start./  “Alright, then.  Come here.” They ended up on the grating of the main platform, for lack of anything better.  On his great-coat; which any other time wouldn’t be the most comfortable thing in the world for a siesta (much less other, more intimate activities)… but after a year spent living variously in a wheelchair without recourse, in his case, and on the ground or on concrete, like as not, in hers, it seemed to make little difference. Anyway, after a bit, neither of them paid any heed to their surroundings.  There was far too much to manage in between just they two.  For one thing, it had been a bloody year. Bore repeating, didn’t it?  Which meant both the emotional excess on both their parts and a wordless celebration, along with their mutual relief to have ended back here, safe and together.  Add to that, the overall upheaval of all these long months, and none of it took all that long.  Certainly not enough so to become uncomfortable.Exhausted, wrung out, he fell asleep in her arms, with her right there at her side.  Like knowing it was the only reason he could rest.  And for a bit, despite her own exhaustion, which by now seemed a permanent state of being, she held him, watched him as deep, encompassing respite slowly smoothed some of the cares from a face that, though it hadn’t changed much, had also changed in impossibly profound ways in the interim. She slept too, of course, in the end; the first truly deep and peaceful sleep she’d experienced in ages.  And when she woke, god alone knew how many hours later, it was to the awareness that as expected, the process of healing had not even truly begun. Settling back to their impromptu nest after a quick nip away to have a human moment, she found him set on masquerading as best he could as ‘relieved and fine’.  He was avoiding her eye, though, damn him.  /No, not at all the thing./  If she wanted him to survive this, she couldn’t allow him to escape; to slam the walls up again and pretend. He did try, of course.  Made his best effort to go lightly; falsely bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and unbothered as they drifted toward mutual consciousness… but he wasn’t fooling her.  /If you can’t look at me, d’you think you’ve got me snowed?/“Bad place for this, I reckon,” he told her, gesturing toward first the floor, and then the console looming overhead, eyes landing everywhere but her face.  “S’pose I wasn’t paying much attention.”  An attempt at a little, self-deprecating grin.  “Been a while.”/This guy, though./  “And we’re going to have to talk about the reason eventually,” she insisted by way of pinning him the sticking place.He immediately flinched away.  No way she was going to let that fly.  “Alright.  At the risk of having this conversation with your hand staring at us…”  From where they were lying, she had an unwillingly good view of the disarticulated limb, where it now sat beneath the console.  It wasn’t as disturbing to her as it had been to others, but still.He blinked over at said detached body-part, swimming in its little tank under the dash of the TARDIS.  “Well, it’s sentimental,” he defended, still lightly.  “I had to bring the hand back if I wanted to hold yours properly.”It was sweet as hell, of course… but it was also an attempt to keep things superficial.  “You’re adorable,” she allowed, with a kiss for the tip of his nose.  “But.”He promptly looked away again; avoidant behaviour well in place.  /Oh, no you don’t!/  “Tell me about some of them?”  If he wasn’t yet ready to discuss what had just occurred with the only one he’d had left, they could at least open proceedings with some nice, nostalgic accounts of the others he’d known.  /Even if he’s lost them, as well, they’ll be an older hurt.  He might be able to look back by now with some sort of fond perspective.  And it’ll be a way for him to mourn all of it, without getting too close to the most recent one just yet./  “Any of ‘em zone in on the UK the way you have?”His smile went rueful with the sure knowledge that she wasn’t about to let him escape just yet.  “Some did,” he allowed finally.“Hm.  Is that a similar culture thing, or what is it?  Or do all Time Lords just have an incomprehensible fetish for Brits?” This time, his smile was real, if tentative.  “No, I just like you lot.  Your resilience and humour…” “If you want to call it that,” she acknowledged ruefully.  “Some don’t.” Luckily, he hadn't taken her comment as reminder of another recent Time Lord’s escapades in the UK. /Tough to work around a subject if everything reminds you!/He shrugged off the self-mocking acknowledgment.  “There’re so many,” he pronounced finally.  “Or, there were,” he corrected himself; voice low, eyes far away on some distant horizon.  “Lovely colleagues, most of ‘em.  Not a lot like…”  He trailed off, quailing a little./Not like the Master./  “Well, that’s good.  He was an arse.”  /Might as well employ some of that backhanded humour of ours, if it’ll jolly him back into a better outlook.  Anyway, it’s nice to know that most of ‘em managed that arrogance you lot have without turning into world-conquering nutters./And it worked.  For the first time, he was able to face the prospect of his former friend with some composure.  “Yeah, he was.  But… he was one of us.”  His gaze came back to centre, went rueful, though he did his best to shrug it off.  “There was one who liked to help children, in point of fact,” he went on, redirecting the conversation back to the others he’d known.  “She was very fond of England, herself.  Her TARDIS was hidden in a carpet-bag…”“You’re lyin’!”  /Play along.  Keep him talkin’.  Help him to get it out.  Like infection from a boil./His expression reflected minor offence that she would discount his claims.  “I am not!  She carried it about with her everywhere.  Used it to travel without anyone ever knowing they were inside.  She was oh so clever.”  She was almost startled at the fond smile that touched his lips, then.  “I worked with her a good many times.  She liked to be called ‘Mary’.  She was a bit stuck-up…” Rose gave him a gentle nudge.  “That’s a common failing with you lot, it sounds like.”His mood was definitely improving, as he followed her oblique angle at draining the wound.  “Oh, hush.  Anyway, she was also a laugh when she loosened up a bit.”  Faint, proud remnants of a smile touched his cheeks, then.  “Oh, but she was brilliant!  She liked to act like she didn’t get attached to the children she helped, but there was one she met once who was living on the streets in about the 1870s, trying to survive as a chimney sweep.  He didn’t have a family to repair, so she simply took him in and raised him herself, till his uncle returned from service in India to take him in.”“Hm.  Bit young for a companion,” she ventured by way of considering the impact.  “Wager it did his head in, when he grew up and she didn’t change.”“Yeah, it… made an impression, I ‘magine.  She told me once that she couldn’t regret it, but that she felt bad about it anyway, because she knew the lad would always be in love with her.  He was forever glad to see her whenever she came back to London, anyway, no matter how he aged and she didn’t.” Wincing, he looked away.She laid a hand over his before he could get himself lost in the weeds of it.  Not here and now, when it hadn’t happened yet.  “Don’t.”  /We still have plenty of time./He nodded, visibly jerking himself free of the shadows of his greatest fear.  /Good./  “Anyone else come to mind?” she nudged by way of jogging his recollection. “Yeah.”  His gaze returned to that middle distance, full of welcome memory.  “There’s another who likes…  Likes to potter about this century, mostly; but she prefers to spend her time across the Pond, for the most part.  Drove a yellow school bus about…”  He shot her a faintly reproving look before she could comment.  “One that wasn’t at all a school bus, obviously; and teach children about science.”/Sounds about right./He was frowning, now, as he reminded himself yet again of the current status of his former associates.  “Or, liked, I should say, I suppose.”  He glanced over at her; finally let her see the bleak expression in his eyes.  “Course, we were all called back for the War, and I… lost them.” The summary went on hiatus, his mind’s eye visibly turning back toward that awful past reality.  His fingers began to pluck at duvet she’d snatched up while en route back to him.  “I’ve been thinking.”  He faltered then, almost as if he was afraid to explain what he’d been pondering.“You’ve been thinking,” she urged him on.He directed his gaze toward the doors again for a bit, as if he were almost afraid to face her.  “You looked into the Time Vortex; and you didn’t go mad, and you didn’t run.”  For the first time in a while, he met her eyes fully, then, expression bewildered.  “What does that mean?”Rose didn’t hesitate.  Lucky thing, the right answer was also the one he needed most to hear.  “I think it means I’m meant for you.”After a brief second to digest her comment, the second real smile she’d seen on him in months bloomed into something that might become a fledgling grin, with a little work.  “You might be right,” he breathed, and leaned in like a tree falling, to drop his face into the crook between her neck and shoulder.  “Oh, Rose,” he whispered, and she felt him shudder with it; all the emotions he held back, was afraid to examine.  “I’m so sorry about it.  That I considered…  When I knew, what he…”She lifted her hand to his nape, held him tight to her.  “Don’t.  I understand why.”  He knew it wouldn’t have been a manageable plan, so no need to mention that.  /And I do understand.  As well as I’m able, anyway./Perhaps it was best that an entirely crazy thing happened just then to redirect his focus.  Because the mention of it, even at an oblique angle, made it clear they still had a lot to get through.  But for the moment, his expression read more as reflective, almost solemn, rather than distraught, so that was good.  “I’ve been pondering something else, as well,” he began, eyes once more on his hands. She found herself in a state of growing curiosity, given his out-of-character diffidence.  Opened her mouth to ask him what he’d been mulling; but before she could say a word, she was cut off by the unexpected noise of…  Of what sounded like a massive fog-horn.It was the only warning they got, before the bow of what looked like a fucking ocean liner crashed right through the side of the TARDIS.  Thrown over on her back, Rose found herself staring up at the vast metallic prow of a ship—a boat-type-ship—sticking right into the upper wall of the control room of their space-type-ship.  “Wh…”“What?” the Doctor completed for her, scrambling back up from prone.  Once upright, he gaped at the intrusion, thoroughly amazed.She was right there with him; scrambling for her clothes, feeling mildly horrified.  /You take the chance while no one else is here to get en flagrante in the control room, and bam!  A crisis appears in the middle of things, because why not?/Reaching up, still on his knees, the Doctor turned something at the edge of the console.  Immediately, to the accompaniment of what actually sounded like a ship’s bell, the prow of whatever-it-was retreated; expelled as the wall of the TARDIS ejected the encroaching object. The rotors groaned, like it was hard work indeed; but the matter was accomplished expediently.  Once the intrusion had been removed, it promptly healed round the damage, askew panels sealing up as if by magic. Having never seen the TARDIS repair itself before, Rose was honestly more than a little impressed.  “Wow.”By that point, the Doctor was already halfway across the room; naked as a jay as he bent to pick up something round that looked uncannily like an old life-belt.  “What?” he repeated, incredulous now.Lifting the circular object, he turned it to face her.“Wait, what?” she demanded, equally flummoxed.The legend on the thing actually said, in big, block-letters, “TITANIC”./So much for no emergencies./*   *   *

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TEN:
“It can’t be!  There is no way!”  And wasn’t it just their luck, as well?  /A year apart, a minuscule bit of private time… then a crisis.  And yet again, no time for shower!//This is getting to be a pattern!/ The Doctor was finally beginning to recover from his stunned amazement.  “There’s always something, isn’t there?” he muttered sourly.  Picked himself up and headed over to the console to dabble with the controls.  “You’re right, as well.  There isn’t any way!  We weren’t anywhere near that time!”  He pulled an offended sort of face.  “Anyway, I’ve already been round to the Titanic!  I don’t need a repeat engagement!”Diverted, Rose dragged her eyes from the spot where the protruding bows had just been.  “Oh, really?  When?”A brief glance back at her, filled with an odd sort of wince.  “Right before I met you.  I was a bit… unsettled, but I managed to convince a particular family not to go along.  They were needed for something.  Anyroad…”/And now you’re ‘unsettled’ again—to use your word, though I wouldn’t—and here’s another encounter with the bloody thing?/  Seemed a bit too pat, didn’t it.  Even symbolic; like someone was trying to tell them something.  /Although…  Is it bad to say maybe I’m glad I missed that one?/  Visiting the Titanic sounded terribly depressing.  /Anyway, how?  We’re in orbit!/  “Well, I suppose it’s a good thing the walls can re-form like that!  But listen; how’d it hurt the TARDIS?  I thought that wasn’t possible!”  /If something can, then that’s a worry, innit?/ He didn’t seem all that concerned about that part of it, though.  “It’s not, usually.  Just a bit of bad timing.”The reassurance helped.  “Isn’t it always?” she quipped dryly, rising to join him.  She hadn’t felt exposed before, but now she knew their vessel could be breached like that, it made her feel a bit more vulnerable than she had.  “Still, how?”  A little shrug as he hauled her, naked and unprotesting, to his side.  “Left the defences down for a tick, while rebuilding her.  Suppose it was able to strike us at just the right moment.”Rose frowned as she turned the explanation over in her mind.  “Well, that’s a bit convenient,” she complained finally. His expression, when he met her eye, was rueful.  “More inconvenient, but yeah.”  A wave of his hands over one of the dials she knew for a fact was meant to communicate general era.  “Thing is, we’re not anywhere near an ocean.  Still in space, still in the same general period we were in when we left the Jones home.  So how…”  His hand dropped briefly away from her to do a deep-dive into his already crazed hair.  “It doesn’t make any sense!” he repeated furiously.Briefly released, Rose circled the console, heading for the viewing screen.  “Time is so weird, sometimes.”He shot her an easy grin that seemed a bit more like his old self.  “Yeah, it is.” “But in this case…”  Rose cranked the screen round so he could also see it.  “What is that?  Some sort of… space-liner?”He gawked over the at image she’d revealed to him; a ship that looked very much like it ought to be plying an ocean somewhere, but instead floated serenely in outer space.  Just outside the Earth’s envelope, like a weird, glowing anachronism.  “Hm.  That’s… odd,” he agreed after a second’s perusal.“You could say!”  /A literal ocean-liner, but with wings?/  Stubby ones, with what looked like some sort of space-drive mounted beneath; but still.  /What the hell is this?/She could tell the exact second he decided, ‘what the hell’.  “Well.  Might as well see what it’s all about, right?” he asked rhetorically as he turned a big wheel and pushed a button. A few minutes later, she had the doors cracked and was peering out, his coat wrapped round her as a sort of makeshift dressing-gown.  Beyond the spot where they had materialized, she thought she could see into a kind of foyer.  Lifts to one side, a stair with a brass banister.  On one wall near to, there was a board detailing a list of shipping companies. More importantly, given there was a bit of foot-traffic going by, she was able to catch a glimpse of what people were wearing.  “Hm.  Formal attire, looks like.”  She popped back inside, pulling the doors closed again.  “Evening wear.”“Well, then!”  With a luring sort of smile, he tilted his head back toward the spiral stair that would lead them upward, toward the wardrobe area. She knew that expression.  It basically said, ‘So, then, let’s take the adventure that’s come to us, yeah?’  “Oh, no, Mister,” she told him, wagging a finger.  “No fancy dress for me till I get cleaned up, first.”His challenging smile turned mischievous.  “You want any company with that?”The playful air was a relief, given it seemed genuine.  Like it hid no shadows beneath it, for the nonce.  Which was likely a façade, but they would deal with that later, because, /Oh, I’m not gonna say no to that!/ It seemed that, contrary to her previous assumptions, maybe a bit of an interruption might help him work through things in the long run.  Or at least she thought so, judging from the new lightness in his demeanour.It took…  Well.  A bit longer than strictly necessary for them to shower and pick out appropriate togs, but what could you do?  /A whole bloody year./  Speaking of; at some point she was going to have to find the time to fix her hair.  The past year's events had made things like your roots growing out kind of inconsequential, but if things were now back to normal...Anyway, hopefully, no one noticed that a blue phone box from the sixties or whatever was anachronistic as hell inside a futuristic space-liner that was currently pretending to be from the early nineteen-hundreds.  /We might get out of the loo and find ourselves bunged up in some storage room or something, and them about to have the law on us!/Eventually, they made their way out of the TARDIS—which wasn’t locked away as yet—and into what looked like some sort of elegantly-appointed reception-area.  Everything in it seemed very… dated, if beautiful.  Globes, gilded, decorative posts holding up the ceiling, wood panelling everywhere.  Mellow lamps, shaded in white to spread a warm, yellow glow, that sort of thing.  “Well, that’s lovely.  Bit worrying, since it all seems to fit the name; but still gorgeous.”The Doctor didn’t answer, his eyes darting everywhere as he assessed things.In spite of his silence they carried on, into an adjoining, far more crowded area that seemed to be a combination of dance-hall and formal dining room, with a bit of casino thrown in as well.  There were myriad decorations; a lot of them evergreen or made up of blue and white LEDs.  There was even a large tree with fairy lights!  And everyone—every single person—seemed to be dressed for a ball. Rose adjusted the hang of her lace-edged gown as they made their way toward these flash surroundings.  She felt a bit underdressed in her circa 1920’s formal-wear.  /They seem to be hovering more round 1910.  Appropriate for the name of the ship; and anyway, don’t they know it’s not one with the best luck attached to it?/Another not-all-that-comfortable thought struck her just then, giving her a shudder.  /Please tell me we won’t have our own share of rotten luck while we’re visitin’ here; because given my name…/ That film was a bit haunting if you were called ‘Rose’, alright?“Don’t worry,” the Doctor answered the first of her unspoken concerns, popping his arm gallantly out as he did.  “We’re close enough to blend in.”  He patted at his understated black tuxedo, which was much more obviously out-of-date… and which, as an aside, looked positively stunning on him, and badly made her want to fondle his bum, though by some miracle, she managed to restrain herself. /Stop it.  You’ve managed not to do it in the past when he got all prettied up.  Just ‘cause you’re allowed to now doesn’t mean you have to./Near thing, though.“Anyway, I doubt any of them really have any idea of the customs here,” he rattled on, apparently unaware of her internal struggle.  “This lot are likely interplanetary tourists.” /Oh, then I’ll wager they’ve no clue how much bad luck they’ve incurred with this thing, if they’re just sightseein’.  Probably just looked for the most famous ship-name they could find in Earth’s history and, boom.  Off to the races./His busy eyes went on scanning their posh surroundings.  After a mo’, he gave her a nudge with the arm he held cocked for her to take.  “Probably a themed getaway,” he added… then turned back to her, his eyes fairly sparkling.  “Will you accompany me, Miss Tyler?  I should very much like to escort you this fine evening.”/What the hell.  We could use a change of pace!/  Threading her arm through his, Rose beamed at him.  “Then, good sir, you shall.”  /And I shan’t worry about my name and the ship’s one!  I’ll simply enjoy!/“Excellent!”  Setting off, her right in stride with him, they entered along the sort of hovering scrum of people round the edges of what looked to be a middling-large, enthusiastically-attended dance floor. Across the way, up on a small dais, some sort of wannabe swing band was playing a very slow, stately version of what sounded like “Jingle Bells”.  From somewhere above in the distance, the fog-horn was sounding again, as if to warn any other stray blue boxes to stay well away.  Ahead of them, beyond the dance-floor, people in vaguely Edwardian dress were enjoying a sort of drinks buffet with what looked to be a lot of champagne flutes standing to the ready.  /Why is it always Edwardian stuff?  Even when it’s in the future?/ Ah, well.  The overall vibe was fairly chill, if not rather festive.  One thing that did give her the creeps, though, was that the verges of the crowds were all decorated with what looked like golden angel-statues in white gowns, their gloved hands pressed together in a prayerful position. If one was already a smidge unnerved, this wasn’t a helpful addition to the ambience.  /Oh, great.  More angels./  Call her mental, but given recent adventures, she was no longer all that fond of the imagery. She had thought them merely a part of the décor, till one moved slightly as they walked by.  /Alright; that’s enough of that!/  “Please don’t tell me those are Weeping Angels,” she whispered, trying hard by now not to freak out about it.  /Though, they’re not covering their eyes, and they don’t look a bit like stonework, but…/The Doctor eyed the figures for a second in that way of his that said he was sussing out the impressions filtering into his massively-wrinkled brain.  Then, “No.  Androids, looks like.”  He caught her eye, offered a sympathetic twitch of his lips.  “Bit unnerving, though, innit?” /Given everything lately?/  “Yeah, it is!  First that lot, then an ‘Archangel Network’, and now these?”  /For one, their faces are uncanny!/His expression went a bit pained round the edges.  There was even the faintest hint of a scowl around his lips.  “You’ve a very good point.  What is that?”“I was hoping you’d know.  Anyway, is it Christmas already?  It couldn’t have been when we left Martha’s!”  /Did the TARDIS do that, and us not even noticin’?/  Granted, they’d been a titch distracted at the time.  /Suppose if we didn’t notice Jack teleporting us once, while we were actually dancing, then we’d miss a bit of light time-travel while we were busy with the other sort of dancing./Eyes scanning the evergreen hangings and other thematic hints, the Doctor shrugged a little uneasily.  “Honestly?  I think the TARDIS likes to take me to every Christmas she runs across.”Rose smiled and nudged his shoulder.  “She knows you like it,” she teased.  As an explanation, it was way better than, ‘Girl called Rose stows away on a ship called Titanic, because terrible luck’.When he returned his gaze to her, he appeared visibly lighter than he’d acted in quite some time.  “Probably true.”  He sobered slightly then.  “She knows when I need refreshment of the spirit.”/Well, that’s certainly true!/Before she could comment, though, and say something he didn’t want to hear, he was tugging her off to one side.  She followed obligingly, in time to catch sight of his goal; a rather small, crimson alien in a dinner jacket, with a bunch of spikes on his face.  Or, rather, just past the tiny bloke; to a lovely, circular window with wooden trim.  “Right,” the Doctor murmured, looking out.  “Let’s see where we are for sure.”She followed his eyes.  Immediately caught sight of the familiar the curve of the Earth below, the shapes of the continents unchanged from the recent past.  /We were right.  Haven’t moved./  “Wonder if the defence systems are all going mad right now,” she mused, “seeing a passenger liner floating about above their heads.”  They might not recall the last dreadful year, but that didn’t mean they’d be at ease with this sort of thing hitting the radar.  /Won’t just lie doggo for something like this, after the Sycorax and the lot!/“I ‘magine it’s cloaked, actually,” the Doctor answered, sounding a bit distant as he considered the matter.  “This sort of tour does its best not to worry the natives.”Rose considered this, and found it appropriate.  “Well, good.  Whether they remember it or not, they’ve been through enough.” She wished the words back even as they passed her lips.  Luckily, before he had to respond, the tannoy interrupted their uncomfortable conversation.  ‘Attention all passengers.  The Titanic is now in orbit above Sol Three; also known as Earth.  Population, Human.  Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Christmas.’Following the sound of the announcement, the Doctor drifted with her over to where a screen sat next to an inset speaker.  The image on the former was of a sleazy-looking bald man with a thin moustache sitting behind a desk, with a model liner in front of him.  ‘…To Max Capricorn Cruiseliners,’ the recording was saying in slick, salesman’s tones.  ‘The fastest, the farthest, the best.  And I should know; because my name? Is Max!’  The fellow did a slimy sort of grin; and as if to complete the image, a gold tooth gleamed in his face. “Ugh,” Rose commented, wittiness briefly deserting her.  “That’s… not attractive.”“There’s that sort on every world,” the Doctor informed her dryly.“Lovely.”The recording ended, and the screen was taken up with what looked like a fancy, space-age corporate logo with a sort of whoosh arcing over a stylized ship.  /No help./Behind them, on the small dais across the dance floor, a singer had shifted to crooning what sounded like a warped, rather bouncy rendition of “Winter Wonderland”.  /What’d they do?  Get hold of some second-rate Christmas album as it was beamed into space, and decide to record some covers?/If so, they weren’t the first, were they?  /Everyone makes a Christmas album at some point in their career.  Apparently even when your band isn’t from Earth!/  As a former retail worker, Rose wasn’t sure if she found this reassuring or exhausting to contemplate. She jumped when, to one side, a steward proffered a tray with a couple of flutes on it.  “Merry Christmas, sir.  Ma’am.”“Gratis, or comp?” the Doctor asked before partaking. “Just present your badges,” the man informed them primly./Oh, well, then…/ “Actually, no thanks.  We’ve had enough.  But, er, Merry Christmas.” Rose actually added the ritual words at the exact same time as the Doctor did; an automatic response.  It had to be said that his reply held a deal more enthusiasm than hers.  /Because unfortunately, if it’s Christmas, I’ll have to throw off thinkin’ of the people I’m missin’.  Because I’m here with him, and that’s what matters!/Christmases with the Doctor were doubly wondrous, even if she might be missing her other loved ones.  /Because otherwise, he might be here alone… and because he’s a gift to me.  As I hopefully am for him.  Anyway, I had a Christmas with them—and by it, without him—while we were apart, so this is owed to us!/ Besides.  She’d well known that all the ones following on from that one would be like this.  /And I came anyway, so.../Before she could quite complete the thought, the Doctor reclaimed her attention with a little bow, his behaviour so intent that the steward retreated in confusion with his tray.  Rose scarcely noticed his departure; locked in on the look in her bloke’s eye as he retrieved her hand in both of his.  Straightening, he lifted it to his lips, eyes also locked on hers.  “So, Miss Tyler…  Shall we dance?”/Well, if you’re gonna be that way about it, and speakin’ of why I’m here!/  “Yeah,” she answered, and favoured him with her most blazing smile.  “That sounds a plan.”  Anyway, it was a good sign that he wasn’t holding himself aloof; people-watching without joining in.  /Nor yet looking for things to occupy himself so he doesn’t have to think.  Pokin’ around looking for problems to solve./ Aware of exactly how special that was, she happily let him lead her onto the floor amongst the other swirling couples, and resolved not to worry anymore about parallels with blockbuster films.  Anyway, they hadn’t really danced like this, before; formally, and yet so closely.  In less than a minute she had her head pressed to his shoulder, her eyes closed; just enjoying the moment with him.  /Listening to his hearts, knowing that, for at least this one stitch in time, it’s just us here./He seemed to be on about the same mental track.  “Expect she brought us here ‘cause she knew I needed to be reminded,” he murmured into her crown, and kissed her lightly there.“Reminded?” she prodded, forehead pressed to his throat. “Of how much I love you.  And of what you represent to me.  Hope, joy; and a reason to go on that’s not… all the rest.  The things that drive me, otherwise.”/As in, depression, emptiness, or rage?/  He deserved to feel all those things, after what had just happened.  But if he was choosing to focus instead on love, then she had no complaints!Opening her eyes, she let him see what it meant to her to hear it.  And bathed in the radiance of his expression, as he made her, and not loss or regret, the focal point of his existence; for this evening, at least.  /I’m so bloody lucky, I can’t handle it, sometimes./They mingled a bit, after; sampling canapes and enjoying the general, warm ambience.  A few people marred it, of course; like the snarky businessman to one side complaining about how he couldn’t holiday properly when there were stocks to buy and sell. Rose led the Doctor firmly away from him.  He was bringing down the mood.  “Wonder where they sailed from.”“Easy enough to find that out.”  Cheerful now, the Doctor drew her along with him as he headed for one of the mildly-creepy golden angels.  “Evening.  Ah…  Passenger fifty-seven. Terrible memory.  Remind me.  You would be?”Sometimes Rose frankly wondered how he got away with this sort of thing without everyone’s bullshit-o-meter pinging like mad.  /Maybe not if it’s a robot, though.  We hope./Thus addressed, the android came abruptly to life, its head shifting their way with the sound of servos, its creepy, empty eyes staring.  “Information,” it intoned in a passable attempt at a calm voice.  “Heavenly Host, supplying tourist information.”/So, walking automatons providing search results?  That’s… bizarre./  Still, anything that separated this ship from the historical one was a positive, wasn’t it.The Doctor accepted ‘mobile search-engines’ as read.  “Good, good.  So, tell me, because I'm an idiot; where are we from?”“Information.  The Titanic is en route from the planet Sto in the Cassavalian Belt.  The purpose of the cruise is to experience primitive cultures.”“Stowe?” Rose asked, surprised.  “Seems a bit British.”“S-T-O,” the Doctor corrected her as an aside.  “Cassavalians go in for short planet names.”/Alright./  “Must be a ways away from Raxacoricofallapatorius, then,” she quipped.Tickled, he sent her a delighted grin.  “Just to the left of Clom.”“Of course!”Smile fading, the Doctor turned back to the Google-droid.  “Titanic.  Who thought of the name?”/Right?  Whoever did, they missed an important section in their research!/ “Information.  It was chosen as the most famous vessel of the planet Earth.”“Oh, I was right!” Rose jumped in, feeling vindicated.  /Idiots!/The Doctor blew out a tried breath.  “Did they tell you why it was famous?”“Information.  All designations are chosen by Mr. Max Capricorn, president of Max…  Max…  Max…”  The robot twitched with each repetition, its pitch rising. /Huh.  Glitch much?/A steward was hustling toward them by now, looking deeply embarrassed.  “It's all right, sir, ma’am; we can handle this.”  On his heels were two additional officers.  Within seconds they had the jerking android switched off, and were carrying it toward the lifts like a drunk being detained to sleep off his carousal. “Software problem, that's all,” the steward insisted, waving off their concerned looks.  “Leave it with us, sir.  Merry Christmas.”  As he turned away, though, he spoke in an undertone to one of his fellows.  “That's another one down!  What's going on with these things?”“Hm,” the Doctor commented, like his over-active curiosity had been piqued. /Oh, here we go!/  “Probably just new equipment.  Like how every time they roll out a new Windows, it turns out to be all bugs.”  It was a wishful sentiment, but hope sprang eternal on Christmas, right?“I reckon you’re right,” the Doctor answered, sounding as if he didn’t believe it a whit.Before they could head off to figure out if the purported software glitch was anything to worry about, though, a crashing sound turned their heads.  Off to one side, the entrepreneurial fellow with the stocks, still on his device, had bumped into a waitress in an old-fashioned, black-and-white maid’s frock that might have been the twin of the one Rose had worn in 1913.  Paying no attention to where he was in space, the ass knocked right into her tray of drinks, sending it to the floor with a vast, tinkling clatter. Of course, he blamed her.  “For Tov's sake, look where you're going!  This jacket's a genuine Earth antique!”/Snooty prick./“I'm sorry, sir,” the woman answered; smoothly pretending it was, in fact, her fault.Plight of the wage-earner.  /Been there, girl./ Rose’s sympathies were, as ever, wholly with the working-class stiff in the situation.  Moreso when the prick replied, all heated and self-impressed.  “You'll be sorry when it comes off your wages, sweetheart,” the asshole informed her shortly, and marched off like he’d been mightily insulted.  “Staffed by idiots.  No wonder Max Capricorn's going down the drain.”/Wanker./Hurring along in the Doctor’s wake, she joined him in crouching to help the poor girl gather up her shattered bits.  “Careful,” the Doctor was saying as they got the shards safely onto the tray without injury.  “There we go.”“Thank you, sir, ma’am.”  The waitress looked horribly embarrassed to have ‘passengers’ stooping to help her.  “I can manage.”“Never said you couldn't,” the Doctor insisted, smiling in that way of his that always managed to put people at ease.  “I'm the Doctor, by the way; and this is...”“I’m Rose,” she jumped in, hand held out.  Not to be outdone, when there was a hard-working person being abused by rich cretins, after all. Still a bit rattled, the woman nodded, eyes downcast.  “Astrid, ma’am.  Astrid Peth.”“Nice to meet you, Astrid Peth,” Rose told her, and hoped the genuine tone of their interaction would put her at ease.“Merry Christmas!” the Doctor added as they rose.Astrid looked a bit less anxious as she answered, blushing a tad.  “Merry Christmas, sir.”“Just Doctor, not sir,” he insisted, as per usual. /Any second and he’ll be pumping her for information./  She knew her bloke, knew how he ticked.  /Make an acquaintance, find a way in from there./  Likely he didn’t even notice he was doing it, by now.  /Anyway, he’s not the only one who’d prefer to ask this girl than those bloody robots!/  If they needed information, this route was far less disturbing.“You enjoying the cruise?” Astrid ventured, eyes darting between them as she rose.  Being honest, she looked torn between getting away with her broken glass, and engaging in the polite conversation being thrust upon her. /Seems not much has changed when it comes to class bullshit, whatever your planet or time.  That’s a bit irritating!/  Likely half this woman’s discomfort came of being addressed by people she had to assume were rich, given the company they kept.  /As in, more like that bellend who smacked into her than like her./Rose sought in her mind for a way to comfortably disabuse the poor girl of said notion so that she could perhaps relax a little.  Before she could come up with anything like a helpful segue, though, the Doctor was on it.“Yeah,” he answered with a winning smile, and threaded his fingers back through Rose’s.  “So far so good, right Rose?”“I’m enjoying it,” she admitted.  /Bit of dancing, maybe a bit of wine if we can get hold of any.  Didn’t need the alien shellfish, though./  Seemed as if no matter the planet, oysters (or their analogues) went down like a dollop of snot.  “What about you?”“Yeah.  Long way from home, planet Sto,” the Doctor chipped in as they fell into their mutual and practised ‘working the crowd’ rhythm.“Doesn't feel that different,” Astrid admitted, disarmed by their unexpected friendliness.  “I spent three years working at the spaceport diner, travelled all the way here… and I'm still waiting on tables.”/I feel you, girl./  “I was a dinner-lady,” Rose soothed her by way of making conversation.  “Worked in a laundry as well.  Before that, in retail, so I know what you mean.  If the job’s the same, it doesn’t really matter where it is.”  /Though, the soap’s better nowadays./Astrid darted a startled look her way.  “Oh.  So is this… a special trip for you two?”Rose caught herself smiling as she watched the Doctor’s profile.  “Could say that.  Usually when we travel, it’s sort of a workin’ holiday.”The Doctor’s hand squeezed hers, and she didn’t miss the way his smile warmed as he met her gaze.  “Yeah, tends to be.  Nice to just mingle without an ulterior motive, though.”/Granted something doesn’t go haywire/ Rose thought, the hovering consideration dampening her enjoyment a bit.  /You never know, when it’s the TARDIS haulin’ you about./  “I’ve high hopes,” she admitted with a nudge for his shoulder by way of letting him know it.  /If we’re lucky, we’ll get more than a half-hour of leisure./“So do I,” the Doctor agreed, his tones earnest.  After a second spent watching each other consider the matter, he tore his eyes away to recommence the conversation.  “No shore leave, in all that time?” he queried softly of Astrid, and gestured toward the nearest circular window.  Earth sat serenely below them, looking quite lovely framed in the curve of wood./Oh, right.  She did say./  “Yeah, that sounds awful!”  /Don’t they all get a chance to get off the boat on this sort of… cruise?/  She thought she recalled that employees of Earth-style ones did, at least.  /Is Sto really that harsh?/“We're not allowed,” Astrid confirmed the Doctor’s shrewd observation.  “They can't afford the insurance.”  Her face went pensive, her tones wistful as she looked down on the nearby planet.  “I just wanted to try it, just once.  I used to watch the ships heading out to the stars, and I always dreamt of…”  A little head-shake, as if to knock herself back to reality.  “It sounds daft.”The Doctor, though, was already way ahead of her.  “You dreamt of another sky.  New sun, new air.  A whole universe teeming with life.  Why stand still when there's all that life out there?”/Oh, wow.  How does he do it?  Find the one person in the general area who might love a quick spin around the galaxy?/ He absolutely had a gift.  /Well, we’ll be giving her a ride, no doubt.  He already likes her./  Rose of course knew it wasn’t romantic at all.  That he just couldn’t help himself whenever he found someone remotely interesting.  Anyone who was clever enough, or capable, and who yearned toward the stars and new horizons.  Better if it were both. He simply loved to show it all to them; blow their little human minds.  /Are people from Sto human?  Or do they just look it, like he does?/  Not that it mattered, so long as the person in question needed their horizons broadened.  Because, and more importantly, it made him feel better to review it all through new eyes, after all these big, demanding, massive blows that so jaded him.  /And I get that, and I want that for him, but at the same time…/Well, frankly, she’d been rather hoping for some time to themselves, after everything.  /For one thing, a bloody year!  For another, we’re not exactly back on an even keel, yet.  And likely won’t be for a bit of time./  It wasn’t like they’d nearly had the chance to deal with any of it as yet!Not that Rose was against inviting this girl along for a trip or two, on principle.  Obviously she got what it was like in her position, knew how utterly life-changing it could be to travel with the Doctor even once.  She’s been in the same place, after all; and not all that long ago.  Never looking forward to anything more, trying hard to be contented with what you had… but full of wistful thoughts about opportunities that would never come.  /Adventures you thought you’d never experience… and then they just get handed to you, right out of the blue!/Upon sober reflection, maybe it wouldn’t be too massive a hardship to have this one along for a few days.  /Not a patch on our Martha, but…/Astrid, though, had gone back to ‘proper’.  She seemed a timid sort; or like a girl who’d been beaten down by life.  “So, you travel a lot?” she asked, in a superficial sort of ‘I’ve got to act the host’ way.“All the time.  Just for fun.”  The Doctor’s mouth twitched as the unrealistic nature of that claim made itself known.  “Well, that's the plan, anyway.”“Yeah.  Never quite works,” Rose added, if with a little jiggle of his hand to let him know there were no hard feelings.  /Dunno if you’d want to come along, Astrid.  It can get hectic./“Must be rich, though,” Astrid posited, as if it were a no-brainer./You’d think, wouldn’t you?/  It followed, after all, if they were always on the move.  /Probably thinks I’ve landed myself a rich beau to get myself out of workin’ as a shop-girl./ “Haven't got a penny,” the Doctor corrected her cheerfully.  He leaned in, his mien abruptly conspiratorial.  “We’re actually stowaways.”/I mean, put it that way.  Speakin’ of patterns; I’ve just stopped being a stowaway on the damn Valiant!/Astrid looked amazed.  “You’re kidding.”“No, seriously,” Rose assured her with a shrug.  “Actually, we just sort of… fell into the ship.”  /Which is far better than bein’ a spy on one./“No!”The Doctor shared a mischievous glance with her, then turned back to Astrid as if gambling that she wouldn’t report them.  “Oh, yeah.”Astrid clearly found that incredible.  “But…  How did you get on board?”“Accident,” Rose supplied helpfully.  “Total and complete coincidence.”  /Or so we hope./Astrid blinked from one to the other of them, amazed.“We've got this sort of… ship thing,” the Doctor explained.  “We were just rebuilding her…”/And our relationship, really./“Left the defences down.”He really could be talking about his own emotions. “…Bumped into the Titanic… and here we are.” /Wonder how often the TARDIS works as an allegory for what he’s also going through./  “Yeah.  Just plain nice luck,” Rose agreed.  /Depending on if that’s really what brought us here, and not our ship thinking we’re needed./  Given the TARDIS carried the Vortex itself in her heart, she was more able to suss out these little moments when intervention might be necessary before any of her passengers had a clue they might be required to serve.  /But she also wants us to have the time we need; has shown it more than once.  She could use a breather as well, after all that; so maybe it’s actually just a layover, this time!/One never knew.The Doctor’s eyes roved around again, as if he had forgotten for a second that there were other people on this deck.  “Bit of a party.  We thought, why not?”Astrid just stared for a second.  Then, “I should report you,” she pointed out, though she really rather sounded like she didn’t want to.They smiled impartially at her, letting their cards fall where they might.  “Go on then,” Rose urged her.  /But somehow, I don’t think you will./Astrid gave it up that quickly.  “I'll get you a drink on the house.”  Turning on her heel, she led them over to the bar.As they trailed her, Rose leaned up to speak into the Doctor’s ear.  “You know, this is the second time I’ve been a stowaway in as many weeks.  Was one for a half a year.  It’s getting to be a pattern.”  /Though, if I’m gonna be one again, this is shaping up to be a much more pleasant experience this time round.  Names aside./  Anyway, they had to find a way to talk about the time that had just passed, if they were ever to move on, so might as well prod a bit and see how he took it.It was uplifting when, far from reacting negatively this time, the Doctor only sparkled at her, his entire being exuding an amiable bonhomie in keeping with the holiday spirit.  “Different sort of voyage, though.”  He gestured round the room, taking in the accoutrement.  “Most romantic ship in history… or, at least, based on the film.”Rose rolled her eyes at him.  “Yeah, till it sinks.” “Don’t,” he chided, eyes intent on hers.  “We don’t know for sure.  She might’ve brought us here because she knew we needed a break.” /Would be just about the first time./  Except, she had brought them to any number of vacation planets before all that insanity had gone down with the Master.  “Maybe you’re right.  She’ll want the time off as well, won’t she?”  /She did get cannibalised, after all.  Bet she didn’t much enjoy that, paradox or no!/They accepted the drinks Astrid brought them; ones that tasted a bit of rum, and maybe something that resembled vodka as well.  /Wonder what sorts of drinks they go in for on Sto./  “Thank you, Astrid.”“Of course.  Well.  I’d better get back to work.”  Her smile much more genuine now, the hardworking woman headed off to serve her other patrons.Lifting his tumbler, the Doctor tapped it to Rose’s.  “Cheers.”“Cheers,” she agreed readily, and knocked back a quick sip.  Then, lowering the tot, she coughed a bit.  “Oh!  That’s…”“Expensive,” the Doctor agreed, eyes watering right along with hers.  “Ahem.  Well.  ‘Mind me not to drink that too quickly.”/Well, unless…/  “Depends on your goal for the night,” Rose nudged, beaming goodwill at him.  “Given we’re here anyway, on this romantic cruise…”“Ooo, just what exactly are you implying, young woman?” he demanded with mock-horror./Please./  “You wanna fool about?”Smile spreading, he glanced round the room.  “We’d have to find a less populated corner,” he murmured a bit doubtfully; thoroughly surprising her with his willingness to embrace the vibe.  “But if…” Their rather intriguing conversation was interrupted by a loud burst of raucous laughter to one side, by the dining area.  Turning about to follow the noise, they noted that a gaggle of toffs appeared to be laughing rather cruelly at a couple wearing shining, satin cowboy outfits, complete with white fringe, all in royal purple. Never one to let an insult lie if it was directed at someone else, the Doctor headed right over.  Resigned, Rose followed. “Just ignore them,” the man was saying to the woman as they approached.  His honest-looking brown face was beaded with sweat in the warm room, which made Rose wonder right off if the food they were eating might be a bit spicier than they had expected.  Because otherwise, it was actually on the cool side in here.  Probably in deference to everyone’s fancy garb.The woman was blushing all over her plump, pleasant face, and despite her dark, cheerful updo and carefully-applied slap, she appeared a tad harried. “What’s up their bums?” Rose asked by way of greeting.  /Solidarity, first off, so they’ll open up./“They told us it was fancy dress,” the woman informed them in defensive tones.  “Very funny, I'm sure.”  By the expression on her pale face, she was trying not to take the mocking to heart but failing.“They're just picking on us because we haven't paid,” her date reassured her in a champion way, then added for their visitors’ benefit, “We won our tickets in a competition.”  He glowed as he said it, his round, likeable features filled with a sort of mellow amiability.“I had to name the five husbands of Joofie Crystalle in By the Light of the Asteroid,” the woman inserted, a note of pride in her voice.  “Did you ever watch By the Light of the Asteroid?”/Nope.  And isn’t it like us to have located the sole three working-class people in the room right off?/  Rose would, of course, have it no other way.  /Wouldn’t prefer to chat with anyone else in this crowd!/“Is that the one with the twins?” the Doctor ventured, clearly amused.“That's it.  Oh, it's marvellous.”“I’ll have to give it a try,” Rose told her, wondering as she did if it was more Coronation Street, or Fawlty Towers.  “You sure seem to know a lot about Sto,” she prodded at her bloke by way of encouraging this new, open mood. “Stopped there a couple of times over the years,” he waved it off.  “Nice theater district in the capitol.”Snugging herself to his arm, she smiled up at him.  “You’ll have to take me there sometime.”  He was a bit predictable in his enthusiasms, but he was hers and she very much enjoyed him.“But we're not good enough for that lot,” the bloke at the table was telling them.  “They think we should be in steerage.”/Wow.  There’s still a steerage in this thing?  That’s just disgustin’!/“Well, can't have that, can we?” the Doctor answered, because he simply couldn’t let an injustice lie.  Pulling out his screwdriver, he aimed it under his arm at the toffs collected over by the next table.  Rose covered her mouth with her hand to lock away the startled giggle when the champagne bottle in the bucket nearby shot its cork, spraying their expensive clothes and wetting their ugly faces. /Oh, you./  Rose loved him so much it made her look stupid, probably.The woman beside them stared.  “Did you do that?”“Maybe,” the Doctor informed the couple, expression mysterious (and not a bit satisfied) as he tucked the tool back inside his coat.“We like you,” the woman told him, smiling widely now.  All her previous discomfort had seemingly fled./Makin’ friends all over the ship, aren’t you?/“We do,” the man agreed, and held out a hand.  “I'm Morvin Van Hoff.  This is my good woman, Foon.”They shook hands all round.  “Hello.  I’m Rose.  He’s the Doctor.”Foon appeared to find this introduction timely.  “Oh, I'm going to need a Doctor, time I've finished with that buffet.”  She gestured toward the table; an unspoken encouragement to join them.  “Have a buffalo wing.  They must be enormous, these buffalo.  So many wings.”Rose was willing enough, being more than a little hungry by now.  /And a bit of spice doesn’t scare me.  Didn’t exactly have breakfast, did we?/ But before she could tuck in, though, much less tug the Doctor down, the tannoy went off again.  “Attention please.  Shore leave tickets Red Six Seven now activated.  Red Six Seven.”Foon immediately pulled out a bright scarlet card from her bosom and glanced over it.  “Red Six Seven.  That's us.”  She waved the object, as did her partner, and they both made to rise.  “Are you Red Six Seven?”The Doctor met Rose’s eyes, the question in them.  A, ‘Want to check in on Earth before we leave?’  She answered with a willing shrug. “Might as well be,” the Doctor agreed, returning his gaze to the kindly couple. They stood, Rose nabbing a roll from the table as they did so.  /I’ll get some curry or something while we’re planetside./“Come on, then,” Morvin urged, taking Foon’s arm.  “We're going to Earth!”Rose found their misplaced eagerness endearing.  /Just came from there, but Christmas’ll be different.  Wonder if anything mad’ll happen this year./They were soon to find out.***They queued up in the reception area, in front of the lifts.  An older man in a tweed suit stood in a prominent position, holding up a bright red sign.  As they approached, Rose could see that it perfectly matched the cards Morvin and Foon had produced.  “Red Six Seven!  Red Six Seven; this way, fast as you can!”Astrid appeared at their elbows.  “You can go ahead and hand me your glasses so you can…”  She hesitated; probably because now they were gate-crashing the away-mission as well. “Repayment for your kindness,” the Doctor interrupted her, and held out his hand to relieve her of her tray.  Setting it aside on an empty table, he tilted his head her way.  “You want to see Earth?”  He was already digging into his pocket; the one that always contained the psychic paper./Aww./  He was so bloody sweet, her bloke.Astrid blinked at them.  “What do you…” “Red Six Seven, departing shortly!”The Doctor had by now dug out the requisite item.  Lifting it, he showed it to the tour guide.  “We’re Red Six Seven, here,” he gestured to himself and Rose, “with a guest,” he added, bluffing with his usual ease.The tour leader appeared more concerned with his time-table than with the complement heading down.  “Quickly, sir, please, and take three teleport bracelets, if you would!” he called, digging in a sort of lectern to hand them out.The Doctor took the bracelets, handed one each to Rose and to Astrid.  Following his lead, Rose clamped hers on her left wrist, watching him in some amusement.  /I’m so very fond of you, Doctor.  You know that?/Astrid just stood there, though; holding the bracelet the Doctor had handed her, like she was scared to proceed.  “I'll get the sack!” she protested, visibly flustered.“Brand new sky…” the Doctor inveigled her.Understandably tempted, Astrid hesitated; but Rose thought she was going to fold.  “G’wan, then,” she urged the girl, because why not, right?  “You deserve a bit of fun, working for so long without any sort of perks!”“I…”To one side, the tour guide was already heading into his prepared comments.  “To repeat, I am Mister Copper, the ship's historian, and I shall be taking you to old London-town in the country of You-Kay, ruled over by good King Wenceslas…”/Wait, what?/  Even the way he pronounced ‘UK’ sounded like he was turning it into a weirdly-inflected, single word.  And that was not even getting into the literal misinformation that came after.Gathered all round him, the rapt tour group were all eyes, ears perked to hear this somewhat erroneous information.“Now,” Copper went on, sounding a bit theatrical, “human beings worship the great god Santa; a creature with fearsome claws…” /Claws?  Oh.  Claus!  Oh, for God’s sake./His voice lowered dramatically, “…And his wife Mary.  And every Christmas Eve, the people of UK go to war with the country of Turkey.  They then eat the Turkey people for Christmas dinner; like savages!”“Er…” Rose began, because what the actual hell?Beside her, the Doctor appeared equally bemused.  “Er, excuse me.  Sorry, sorry; but, ah… Where did you get all this from?”/Yeah, because I think your information’s a bit dodgy./ “Well,” Copper answered, drawing himself up proudly, “I have a first class degree in Earthonomics.”  Half-turning away, he glanced at the old-fashioned time-piece mounted above the lifts.  “Now, stand by.”Before they could depart, though, the little red fellow with the spiky face came trotting up.  “And me!  And me!  Red Six Seven!” he called, holding up his card.With an impatient ‘tsk tsk’ sort of expression, the tour guide dug in his pocket.  “Well, take a bracelet, please, sir!” he answered, hurriedly handing it out.Rose couldn’t contain her curiosity any longer.  “What was your name?” she asked the tiny bloke, by way of edging into asking what his species was, eventually. “Bannakaffalatta,” the small person answered, tones cheerful.The Doctor appeared to be worried about something, though.  “Nice to meet you, Bannakaffalatta.  But it's Christmas Eve down there!  Late night shopping, tons of people…”/Oh, right./  Frankly, Rose had gotten so used to seeing aliens that she had quite forgotten that other humans might not react so kindly to a fellow like this one.  “He’s right.  You’d… ah, stand out a bit, down there.”  /And given humanity’s recent brushes with aliens—not that they recall all of ‘em—you’d go over like a lead balloon, you./“Yeah; no offence, but you'll cause a riot.  The streets are going to be packed with shoppers and parties and…”  Before he could finish, though, the reception area faded out. Seconds later, they were standing in a rather empty shopping district; some of them still holding their drinks.  Like a bunch of misplaced carolers, given the streets round them were inexplicably vacant of cars.  Also, the pavements, while festive and decorated as per the usual round this time of year, actually bore very few people.  A couple of folks minding their news-stands, but beyond that…  “Wait; what?” Rose demanded of no-one.“Oh!” the Doctor agreed, appearing nonplussed.  He appeared to have utterly forgotten the drink in his hand.  Which was fair, because so had Rose.“Now, spending money,” Copper was saying, holding up a card.  “I have a credit card in Earth currency if you want to buy trinkets, or stockings, or the local delicacy, which is known as beef.  But don't stray too far; it could be dangerous.  Any day now, they start boxing.”/Oh, again, with this?/  It was as if the man had read a very poorly-researched anthropological text on the backward natives, or something.  It made Rose wonder just how many of the ‘facts’ in her textbooks back in school had been similarly biased, if not downright incorrect.The Doctor was still hung up on the unlikely, empty streets.  “But… It should be full!  It should be busy!”  He was starting to bet a bit understandably wide-eyed.  “Something's wrong.”/And here we go, with the Spidey-sense./  But he wasn’t off-base, either.  “What do you think’s on?” Rose queried softly.  It was downright eerie, when you really looked at it head-on.  No last-minute shoppers, no-one wandering about enjoying the festive atmosphere.  Nothing.  /Where the hell did everybody go?/His unoccupied hand slipped down automatically to fold into hers.  “No idea.  But I don’t like it.”His suspicious mien was catching.  /He’s right.  There’s something going on; and given recent events, it can’t be good, can it?/ Their guest, though, was undismayed.  “But it's beautiful!”Rose blinked over at her, a bit surprised at her wistful exclamation.  She followed Astrid’s awed gaze round the empty street, didn’t see anything particularly impressive.  “It’s just a bunch of empty shops!”  /God, how dull is this Sto, if you think this is so fantastic?/“Yeah,” the Doctor agreed with her, equally startled.  “Do you think so?”  He glanced around them.  “It's just a street.  The pyramids are beautiful; and New Zealand, but...”“But it's a different planet!” Astrid insisted, apparently overwhelmed at the very thought.  “I'm standing on a different planet.  There's concrete and shops.  Alien shops.  Real alien shops!”  She looked up, toward the ship they had just departed.  “Look!  No stars in the sky.  And it smells.  It stinks!  Oh, this is amazing,” she added, turning to them with her hands clasped in front of her in sincere gratitude.  “Thank you!”  Enthusiasm abounding, she flung herself toward them, hugging first Rose and the Doctor like an excited terrier who’d been given a treat.Rose nearly rolled her eyes, but given the circumstances, she managed to still the urge.  /S’pose if you’re always being kicked around, this’d seem fairly excitin’?/  “First person I ever met who could appreciate the smell of good old London.  Diesel fumes, polluted Thames, the lot.”  She might understand it if they were in some nicer district, at least.  /The palace, or Kew Gardens, or Westminster.  Tower Bridge, or Wembley; but not this!  This isn’t anything worth talkin’ about!/It made her wonder if she was becoming jaded enough by her adventures that she, like the Doctor, now needed to look at things through others’ eyes in order to catch onto how nice some things were that she now took for granted. If it did, then it was maybe a bit like the difference between a new and exciting romantic relationship, and one that had been going on for a while, where you needed to be shaken up a bit from your routine to really recognise what you had.  It made her understand her Doctor better, knowing that this was likely half the reason he kept picking up strays.  /It’s so he can feel this again; like it was the first time, and not the nine-hundredth./Apparently on the same page, the Doctor shared a brief, mutually-amused smile with her, then gestured to Astrid with the hand that still held the tumbler.  “Alright; come on then.  Let's have a look.”/Yeah; check out the ‘alien shops’!/  Though, Rose had probably acted about the same way when she first travelled into the stars.  /No doubt I was as wide-eyed about some average street on Prgax Prime, while everyone else there just went about their day.  So I can’t talk, can I?/  She might be a fair veteran by now, but when one first ventured off one’s home-world, one tended to be rather easily impressed.  /Definitely half the Doctor’s draw in bringin’ us along.  Seein’ it through our eyes./For the first time since Mickey and Adam, she could understand the draw.  /Unlike with Jack, who thought it was all pretty average.  Hm.  Is that why he always seemed so underwhelmed by Jack?  Because he didn’t join in the oohing and ahhing?/It was a startling insight, this far in.  And, she thought now, perhaps quite accurate.They passed several closed-up storefronts, all of them announcing sales and the like.  Drew close to a news-stand that actually seemed to be manned, to allow Astrid a moment to take it all in.  As she stared and exclaimed, fingering the cheap paper and murmuring about the photos visible on the Mirror, Rose found herself scanning some rather startling headlines from some far more dependable publications. ‘London Deserted’, the Examiner told them, while the Evening Standard shouted, ‘City Abandoned!’. /Honestly, though; what the hell is going on?/She glanced over at the proprietor; an older bloke in a beanie hat decorated with a bit of holly, a Union Flag dangling proudly behind him.  “Hullo, there,” she opened, aware that he was watching them with some interest.  As well he might, if there were so few other people about.  /Amazed he’s still out here in the cold hoping for a sale!  He should be inside with his feet up!/“Yeah, hello,” the Doctor agreed, eyes landing on the same man.  “Sorry; obvious question… but where's everybody gone?”/Right?/“Oho!” the grizzled fellow told them, expression filled with scandal and a sort of wary amusement.  “Scared!”“Ah.  Right.  Yes.  Ah, scared of what?”The old man scoffed at them.  Understandable, maybe, given their accents pegged them as locals.  “Where've you been living?  London at Christmas?  Not safe, is it?”/Sure, why not./  “Alright, why’s that?” Rose asked, prepared to get to the bottom of this puzzle.Their informant directed his eyes upward.  “Well, it's them; up above.”  Brought his gaze back to them, an expression of frank unease on his face.  “Look, Christmas before last we had that big bloody spaceship, everyone standing on a roof…”/Oh, right.  Good point./“And then last year, that Christmas Star electrocuting all over the place, draining the Thames…”“Yeah; about that,” Rose began, prepared to request the full story.  Before she could, though, she was interrupted.“This place is amazing!” Astrid put in, sounding far too impressed with the idea of such annual chaos.“…And this year, Lord knows what,” the shopkeep added.  “So, everybody's scarpered.  Gone to the country.”  He waved a hand that encompassed himself and the tinsel round him.  Gestured in the direction of Buckingham Palace, before settling last atop his small telly.  “All except me and Her Majesty,” he added, rising to his feet and standing at attention.To one side, on the man’s tiny CRT-TV, a news-caster was saying, ‘…Her Majesty the Queen has confirmed that she'll be staying in Buckingham Palace throughout the festive season, to show the people of London—and the world—that there's nothing to fear.’“God bless her,” the old man added, saluting.  He had the bearing of an old military man.  Maybe on disability for it.  “We stand vigil,” he added proudly./Braver than many, this one/ Rose thought, admittedly impressed with this old campaigner’s staunch attitude.“Hm.  Well, between you and me,” the Doctor allowed, “I think her Majesty's got it right.  Far as I know, this year, nothing to worry about.”/So far, anyway.  But the night’s young./  Having heard it all in summary, Rose was wondering if perhaps the other denizens of her former home might have the right idea.Before they could further draw the man out, everything vanished round them again.  Seconds later, the ship’s reception area resolved around them, their ‘tour’ abruptly cut short.  “I was mid-sentence!” the Doctor protested, sounding more than a little irritated at the interruption.  Understandable, given things on Earth were seemingly a smidge… off.“Yes, I'm sorry about that,” Copper, the tour guide, replied.  “A bit of a problem.  If I could have your bracelets…”“Apologies, ladies and gentlemen, and Bannakaffalatta,” the steward broke in, bustling up to them.  “We seem to have suffered a slight power fluctuation,” he stammered, taking their bracelets and handing them off to the other.  “If you'd like to return to the festivities,” he added, gesturing anxiously in the direction of the dining area.  “And on behalf of Max Capricorn Cruiseliners, free drinks will be provided.”/Already got ours, thanks!/ Rose thought, and lifted hers to her lips.  She only sipped lightly, though, given how strong this liquor from Sto seemed to be.“Oh.  Thank you!” Foon answered, sounding wholly willing to partake.  She immediately set off in the direction of the now-open bar.Astrid had scuttled right behind the Doctor and Rose when the steward hustled over.  Once that lot had gone, she turned round again; hand on the bracelet she still wore, expression rapt.  “That was the best.  The best!”/Wow, she actually means it, too./  She seemed overjoyed just to have set foot on another planet for five minutes.  /Poor girl needs to get out more./With a final stammer of fulsome gratitude, Astrid muttered something about having to get back to work before she was missed.  Setting aside her bracelet, she dashed off alongside the dispersing crowd of tourists; heading back to pick up her tray and resume serving canapes.With nothing better to do, Rose and the Doctor let themselves be led back into the common area.  To one side, the band was now heading into a rather appropriate cover of ‘The Stowaway’, by Murray Gold.  “You shouldn't be here,” the singer warbled.  “What's your tale?  I ought to throw you to the whale.  He just smiled and said, ‘Come here, let's dance’.  He said, ‘Borrow or steal, I'll find a way to be with my lover upon Christmas Day.  And I'll run and I'll roam, I'll cover the ground.  This Christmas I'll see you; I'll be around’...”The Doctor seemed not to notice the music any longer.  Grimacing instead, he eyed the room with a bit of disquiet on his face.  Rose, though, thought the song quite appropriate to the moment.  “Look.  It’s got to be a false alarm, right?  Nothing’s happening.  It’s just, they’ve been understandably spooked.”  Rubbing his arm bracingly, her fingers still folded through his, she smiled enticingly up at him.  “Can’t we just enjoy the moment while we’re here, till we have reason to panic?”  /Because I know you.  You’re gonna have a tough time relaxing, now there’s something to occupy your mind./The Doctor blew out a breath, as if blowing away his prickling suspicions, and met her hopeful gaze.  “Alright,” he answered, and let the pleasure seep back into his eyes; the simple appreciation of the unexpected moment.  “We were dancing, weren’t we, milady?” he added with a genial incline of his head.“Yes, sir; we were!” Rose agreed with alacrity.  /Enjoy it while you can.  That’s the motto on the TARDIS./  And she meant to.*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

ELEVEN:
They headed back onto the dance floor for another shot at frippery.  However, it quickly became apparent that the moment had passed them by.  With a puzzle pinging at his brain, Rose could tell the Doctor was now truly distracted.  /Well; so much for dancing./  “Alright,” she told him finally, giving in.  “Let’s go see what we can find out.”The relieved look he sent her spoke volumes.  It said, ‘You understand me; unspoken, like that!  I love that about you!’In lieu of another shift spent pirouetting about with that lot, she supposed it would do.  /Though, if we could finish the dance before this is all done, I won’t be all that sad about it./Moments later, they were positioned before the agitated steward, who, it must be said, appeared far more flustered than something ‘routine’ could explain.  “What sort of power fluctuation?” the Doctor braced him without preliminaries.  By his intonation, he was fully intent by now.With a jerk, the steward attended, expression reading as ‘anxious but trying hard to hide it’.  “Oh, nothing at all, really, sir.  Go on back to enjoying your evening.  Nothing to worry about…”  Despite the reassuring phrases he was trotting out, though, the man appeared quite unnerved as he headed off to one side, to confer with another member of the uniformed personnel. /Well, there’s that for clinching it.  Something’s definitely off./  “You think there’s somethin’ wrong?”The Doctor frowned, eyes darting round the room, reading the undercurrents.  “Hm…” he murmured noncommittally, as if he didn’t want to alarm her just yet.  But she knew her man by now, knew he had sniffed out something that didn’t quite jibe. /Right.  Of course there’s something wrong!  There’s always somethin’ wrong; isn’t there, when we’re mysteriously brought along?/  “We can never just relax, can we?” she complained lightly, and did her best to shrug off her unwilling disappointment.  /I knew it was bad luck for me to be on a ship like this with a name like mine!/ Definitely too good to be true.Catching on to her frustration, his lips flattened to a thin, dissatisfied line.  “Not often,” he admitted ruefully.  “Sorry.  I really did want to make it up to you.  Let you just enjoy this side-trip.  But unfortunately…”“You can’t ignore the signs.  It’s fine.”  /Probably gonna wind up more life-and-death than vacation very quickly, because it’s us./  Businesslike now, she resigned herself to the abrupt ending of their well-deserved romantic interlude.  /This is what I signed on for, and I knew it when I came back.  Anyway, I couldn’t relax either now I know there’s a problem, so…/  “Maybe we can manage another dance before the end, once we solve whatever’s on this time.”  In the meantime, they’d had one spin on the floor and a touch of spirits.  /Could be worse!/ Setting aside the drink she’d held onto this entire time, she met his troubled gaze.  “Alright, then, let’s go and check it out.”  /Good thing we didn’t have time to really drink it up, though.  Probably gonna need all our faculties intact./  It was one reason they seldom imbibed on these adventures.  One never knew what might jump off. They sidled up to one of the picture-frame-disguised screens.  Inside it, ‘Max Capricorn’ was going through his standard spiel.  ‘…And I should know, because my name?  Is Max!  The fastest, the furthest, the best.’  Blip.  ‘…My name?  Is Max!’  Blip.  ‘My name?  Is...’/More glitches.  That is worrying./As if in solid agreement with her, the Doctor already had his screwdriver out to unfasten the decorative, pseudo-gilt frame; likely to get at the electronics hidden away behind it.  Seconds later he had the device tuned instead to logistical information; ie, rattling off the ship's current status.He had his specs on, as well.  /That’s never a healthy sign!/Rose winced with him when she read the details.  The shields were off-line, for one.  /That can’t be good, given she’s already smacked into one bit of space-debris while orbiting Earth./  What with all the moon-missions and ISS trips and the lot, and also the fifteen communications satellites that were hopefully no longer using the Archangel Network, that was a lot of junk they could hit and maybe end up breached.  /Space-icebergs, if you will.  A whole field of them.  Wonder if they have lookouts with binoculars on hand?/Clearly of the same mind, the Doctor whipped off and pocketed his glasses, then hustled over to the closest porthole… and immediately straightened, entire pose alarmed.  /Oh, what now?/ Drawing even with him, Rose followed his line of sight… and jerked back in real concern when she noted the three burning objects heading exactly their way.  “Well, shit,” she commented eloquently.  /Not icebergs.  Fireballs!/Opposite problem, really.  Equally concerning, though!To one side, emitting from the speaker mounted next to the screen, an intercom whistled piercingly.  Which was approximately when Rose realised the Doctor had already phoned the folks in charge.  “Is this the bridge?” he demanded, fingers jammed down on an intercom button.  “I need to talk to the Captain!  You've got a meteoroid storm coming in!  West zero by north two!”Good thing he was able to read a radar screen!An older man’s voice answered, sounding tinny and unimpressed.  ‘Who is this?’The Doctor was having none of it.  “Never mind that!  Your shields are down.  Check your scanners, Captain!  You've got meteoroids coming in and no shielding!”The Captain appeared uninterested in this bit of imperative information.  ‘You have no authorisation.  You will clear the comms at once.’“That’s not helpful,” Rose gritted, eyes drawn ineluctably back to the blazing fireballs headed their way.“Yeah?” the Doctor agreed, beyond anxious now as he harried the uninterested captain.  “Just look starboard!”A steward had by now hustled over to interrupt the conversation.  Probably ordered over to hush them up before they started a panic.  “Come with me, sir.  Ma’am.”Rose didn’t protest as the man seized their arms and made to escort them out of the dining- and dancing-area.  The Doctor didn’t either.  He was too busy trying to convince anyone who might listen that they needed to brace for impact.  “You've got a rock storm heading for this ship and the shields are down!”  Pulling away, he headed over to the porthole again.  “Look!”The singer went on singing, the couples went on spinning… while outside, fiery death approached at supersonic speeds.  Before Rose could think of any action they might take, the Doctor had broken away from the steward and was racing up to the dais; intent on creating exactly the panic they had been attempting to halt.  “Everyone, listen to me!” he announced, taking over the microphone.  “This is an emergency!  Get to the lifeb…” Rose jumped when one of the androids appeared at his side and covered his mouth with one gloved, golden hand.  The Doctor immediately set to struggling, but got nowhere fast.  /It’s like a conspiracy!/ she thought, already in motion.She meant to help him, of course.  Before she could get to his side, though, the Doctor fought briefly free and brushed the robot away impatiently.  “Look out the windows!” he shouted as he was recaptured and unceremoniously dragged away from the stage.Most of the people appeared to take this interruption as some sort of joke, but a few, including the couple from earlier and the little spiny bloke, looked somewhat discomfited.  Meanwhile, the cynical businessman who’d treated Astrid so terribly was hustling over to the porthole, seemingly willing enough to take their report seriously.  /He might be a prick, but at least he’s savvy!/Racing up to join the Doctor, Rose set to yanking at the android’s arm in an attempt to free her bloke.  But, nothing doing.  /God, these things are strong!/To one side, the tiny red man was saying, “Him friend!”  Meanwhile the businessman had reached the window, was peering out.  Once he did, he stiffened like he’d been tazed.“If you don't believe me, check the shields yourself!” the Doctor was shouting to the room at large.Astrid appeared at their elbows by this point, looking fully afraid.  “Sir, I can vouch for him!” she tried.The large man from the dining area jogged up next, expression obsequious and helpful.  “Look, Steward, he's just had a bit too much to drink.”The tour-guide was approaching as well, expression more than a little afraid.  “Sir,” he informed the steward, “something seems to have gone wrong.  All the teleports have gone down!”The steward didn’t appear to care about the teleports.  “Not now!” he hissed, still fighting to keep the Doctor in custody.Too late, though.  Before anyone else could speak, a golf-ball-sized chunk of hot rock smashed right through the nearby window, to land, smoking, at the businessman’s feet. /Ice, fire, rock…  You know; the usual.  And just like the film, none of this lot seem to be taking it at all seriously./  All round them, people’s heads had finally jerked up.  Heartening when they set to staring; but only until, as if to confirm the overall anxiety, a computerised voice promptly kicked on over the speakers.  ‘Oxygen membrane holding. Oxygen membrane holding.’  The reassuring message seemed to relieve them of all their concerns.  A large swath of them turned round and went right back to their merriment, likely assuming that the staff would handle whatever had just occurred without their weigh-in.Too soon to relax, though.The ship shuddered as another sizable piece of itinerant space-rock smashed into the hull.  Feeling the impact, Morvin, Foon, and the tiny scarlet man all seemed quite willing to follow their lead; as was Astrid.  Meanwhile, to one side, the businessman was bracing one of the hovering, emotionless androids.  “You there.  Has anyone checked the external shielding?”The robot turned its golden head toward the man, its eerie, unchanging features somehow looking worryingly gleeful as it imparted he next.  “Information.  You are all going to die.”/Well, fuck./***The problem was, there was no real way to divine what they could do about it all. The group of them had by now spilled out into a nearby service corridor; the Doctor still being dragged about by frightened stewards.  “The shields are down!” the Doctor was attempting to convince his captors.  “We’re going to get hit!”At the same time, the businessman was fighting to get the same man’s attention.  “Oi!  Steward!  I'm telling you, the shields are down!”“Listen to him,” Rose tried.  “Listen to him!”  At the same time, she had to struggle to keep her own heart from pounding.  /Stop panickin’!  It’s not helping!  You should be better at these situations now!/It seemed, thought, that spending a year on the run planetside wasn’t a preparatory course for such a different situation as was the prospect of losing life-support while in space.  /Likely be as anxious if I was trapped underwater, as well./No-one managed to persuade the staff to listen before things became dire enough that they could no longer be argued.  They all fell straight to the bare, utilitarian metal floor as the first really good-sized fireball struck them amidships.  /Well, that’ll convince ‘em!/ Rose thought a bit blankly as she strove to pick herself up.By the sound of it, they were but the first of a massive exodus as breathless, shrieking partygoers dashed away from the breach.  It seemed that now all of them were prepared to take the warning a bit more seriously.  Or, at least they no longer assumed it was just part of the show, once the claxon began cranking away with its ship-wide alert. A lot of screaming ensued, trailing off into the distance.  Rose hoped they would all locate some sort of exit to the interior.  It would be safer.Whilst the stunned stewards were distracted, the Doctor staggered out of custody and over to Rose, grabbing her arm tight.  “This isn’t good,” he told her rather unnecessarily as he pulled her vertical.“Noticed that,” she answered in dry tones.  The deck was still heaving under their feet.  “Why can’t we just have a normal date together?”He favoured her with a swift, darkly-amused glance.  “I know.  It always seems…”Another impact, and once more they were thrown to their knees.  “…To go to pot eventually, doesn’t it?” he finished, scowling, and once more held out a hand so that they might steady one another.Taking it, Rose found herself hoping like hell that that was the worst of it.  Things were already edging onto dire as a third strike sent them staggering. “Please, stay calm!” the steward tried, though he didn’t sound remotely calm himself.  “Everyone, please...”  He cut off as the ship suffered what sounded like some sort of internal explosion in response to the latest holing. /Maybe we ought to just stay down till they’ve all hit./ All around them, hyperventilating people picked themselves up from the bare decking and began coughing at a new drift of alarmingly acrid smoke began to make the rounds.  /Great.  There’s a fire as well.  Electrical, judging by the smell./“By my count we should get one more strike…” the Doctor informed her calmly.  “Any second now.“Great; thanks for the warnin’!”He was right, too.  Just as the steward tried another round of reassurances, they were all thrown back on their faces; this time with attendant bursts off sparks and hints of flame.  By the feel of it, the last one of them struck to the fore, and this latest to the aft.  /Very thorough, that.  Almost like it was directed to disable the ship!/Rose had almost gotten her balance back, but now she was prone beside the Doctor; sent flying by that last impact.  Somewhere down a maze of corridors, something went off that sounded like a second, decent-sized explosion.  Likely, the latest impacts had been large enough to penetrate further into the interior, strike more important bits.  /Oh, this is bad./Then everything went worryingly quiet, apart from some sobs and whimpers as people struggled back to standing positions and looked round fearfully.  “It's all right, sweetheart,” the fellow in the purple, fringed shirt was saying to his wife, who appeared to be having a silent panic attack.  Not that Rose blamed her at all.“I believe that’ll be all of them.”  Settling to his knees and pulling absently down on his sober black suit-jacket, the Doctor blew out a bracing breath and shot her a very wry grimace.  “Whose idea was it to stow away on a ship called Titanic?”  His fingers slipped up to brush a hank of hair out of her face.  “And you called Rose…”“Been worryin’ about it, actually,” she admitted in low, half-embarrassed tones.“Well.”  His smile turned warm round the edges as he watched her.  “We’ll figure it out someday.”Enjoying him, despite the circumstances, Rose tucked her hands round his bicep for added stability.  “That a promise?” she challenged as she caught his hand and was hauled back to her feet.He flashed a quick grin her way.  “Yeah, it is.  I’ll make sure of it.”  His tones, though, sounded a lot more serious than his jaunty phrases suggested./He’s annoyed as well.  That’s nice to know./  “Alright, I’ll take that to the bank.”“Good.  But first…”  He was cut off as an unexpected fireball burst over their heads, necessitating a dive toward the floor.  “First, maybe best if we don’t try to stand just yet.”“Think you’re right!”They spent a bit of time face-down amid some flotsam, before everything stilled again; hopefully permanently.  “Dunno if we should get up again,” Rose hesitated.  Once bitten and all that.  “Seems inadvisable.”The Doctor nodded slowly, listening hard.  “Shush,” he muttered, waving urgently at Rose and a whimpering Astrid, lying nearby; as if they were interrupting his thoughts.  “It's stopping.” A few more moments to ensure they weren’t about to be tossed back down, they shared a look.  “You alright?”“Yeah,” Rose confirmed, brushing unnecessarily at her costume dress.  Absently, she held out a hand for Astrid, whose sensible coiffure was by now well and truly askew. Taking the offered assistance, Astrid rose, blinking.  Leaving her to it, they did a tandem stagger over toward the nearest exit.  “Well.  Evacuate?” the Doctor suggested, not at all cheerily.“Don’t mind if we do!” Rose agreed with the enthusiasm of the experienced.  /Best get somewhere more internal, before we’re sucked out or something./With a nod she reciprocated, they set to helping people to their feet.  Rose half-lifted the tiny red fellow, while the Doctor held out his hands to Mr. and Mrs. Van Hoff, hauling them up.  “You alright?” he repeated impartially to everyone in the vicinity.“I think so,” Astrid agreed, her face pale and stark with terror.  Just behind her, the couple in purple were now whispering shaky reassurances to one another, looking a bit battered and with their kits awry.  The tour-guide was still sat on the floor.  He made one attempt to get to his knees, then settled back with a groan like he was too dizzy for the mo’ to try. /Alive, though, so there’s that./It didn’t appear that anyone else in their immediate neighbourhood was badly damaged, at least.  Well, apart from one steward, Rose realised only when the Doctor rose from checking him.  (She hadn’t even seen the body till he’d squatted.)  /Oh.  Damn./His tiny head-shake told her they hadn’t gotten away unscathed after all.  “Rotten name for a ship,” the Doctor muttered in a way that told Rose he was verging on furious.  “Either that, or this suit is really unlucky.”“Why?  What happened last time you wore it?” Rose queried by way of shaking him loose from his well-deserved anger.  In the blinking fluorescents, he looked quite terrifying, actually.His eyes lighted briefly on her, distracted but fighting to remain in relatively good humour.  “Did Martha tell you about Dr. Lazarus?”“Oh.  Yeah, she did.”  Rose scanned him up and down briefly.  “Maybe you ought to retire it?  Be a shame, but…”His answering smile was fitful, and vanished quickly. To one side, the screen was still parroting its repetitive advertisement.  ‘My name?  Is Max.  My name?  Is Max.  My name?  Is Max.’  It was annoying as hell.  But whatever the comparative merits of the bridge crew or the fleet’s owner and his advertising, the remaining steward really was trying.  Give credit where it was due, and all.  “Er, everyone.  Ladies and gentlemen, Bannakaffalatta.  I must apologise on behalf of Max Capricorn Cruiseliners.  We seem to have had… a small collision.”“Small?” Morvin demanded, tones disbelieving.“Do you know how much I paid for my ticket?” the businessman added, visibly furious at the hassle being imposed upon him.“Ah, if I could have silence, ladies, gentlemen.  Please.  Quiet!”  The muttering slowly died.  “Thank you.  I'm sure Max Capricorn Cruiseliners will be able to reimburse you for any inconvenience, but first I would point out that we're very much alive…”“Well, not for long if we don’t find somewhere far from that breach,” Rose informed him shortly.  “Logistically-speaking, don’t we want to head to the interior, quick as we can?”“Oh.  Ah…”“Exactly!” the Doctor agreed, sending Rose a quick, appreciative glance.  “We ought to…”Astrid interrupted, calling for the Doctor and gesturing to the tour-guide.  Rose followed her wild hand-waving, and belatedly noted that the fellow had a ghastly cut across the top of his head.  He was bleeding freely, and looked deeply discombobulated./Oh, great.  Just when we need Martha, she’s left us./  The poor man likely had a concussion, as well. Gamely kneeling beside him, the Doctor reached out, tilted his head back, stared into his confused eyes.  “Are you feeling dizzy?”To one side, the steward was still reliably babbling reassurances to a group that was no longer paying him any heed.  As a body, they were either eyeing corridors, thinking of making for the interior of the ship, or hovering uncertainly around the injured man, as if wondering what they might do to help.  “She is, after all, a fine, sturdy ship,” the steward yammered on.  “If you could all stay here while I ascertain the exact nature of the situation…”  Without further ado, the man dashed off to a nearby, emergency-sealed hatch.  An outside one, like an idiot.The Doctor caught on to what he was doing a titch too late.  “Don't open it!” he yelled, rising. No joy.  Already past the point of no return, the steward was promptly and unceremoniously sucked out into space.  His shriek almost immediately faded as the vacuum took him. He wasn’t the only one, either. Everyone grabbed onto the nearest fixed object, tugged nearly horizontal by the outrushing air.  Clinging to a bit of piping, Rose did her best not to panic as the full-body recollection of being sucked away from the Doctor and into Dad’s world, hit like all buried trauma did; utterly without warning. Her heart beat so fast she thought it might gallop right out of her chest, and everything in her went toward hanging on with all her might.  “Not again.  Not again!” she chanted through gritted teeth.  Oxygen failing her, she resumed it inside her mind.  /Not again!/The atmospheric mix had long since dropped to almost nil-pressure.  Sheer, unadulterated panic was easy enough in such circumstances when you could breathe.  /Not so much when you can’t; and when you don’t know how long you can hang on./  Muscles tended to give out when there was no air.  This time, though, she was determined to do so for longer than she had before.  /Got to give him the chance to fix it!/  Nothing would induce her to lose her hold on her anchor.  Not this time! Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the Doctor going furiously hand-over-hand toward the nearest control box, his screwdriver grasped firmly in his mouth, expression set and determined.  Once he reached the wall, he grabbed tightly onto the edge of the b0lted-down panel and yanked his tool out of his mouth to apply it to the emergency. The panel, flashing a universally maroon ‘Vacuum Breach!’ warning, promptly slipped over to the amber when he touched it with his tool, settling onto ‘Oxygen Shield Enabled’.‘Oxygen shield stabilised!’ the computer chimed in helpfully.As the membrane was re-established, everyone immediately toppled back to the floor; all breathing hard and all likely dealing with varying stages of existential dread.  Meanwhile, the Doctor had long since abandoned the circuitry to dash back to her side, like there was no need for the intervening space.  He immediately yanked her up; right into his arms.  Clung tight, face buried in her neck, shaking like a leaf.  “Rose, Rose,” he chanted, sobbing it into her ear.  “Almost…  Again!  Couldn’t…  If…”/Yay dimensional trauma./  She hadn’t even had the chance to fully register it, but clearly he had.  Had had an entire set of flashbacks, probably, given the way he trembled violently against her; his arms wrapped so convulsively tightly around her that she was having a tough time reasserting her dangerously low oxygen levels.  “I’m okay,” she told him breathlessly; over and over, mouth pressed tight to his ear.  “I’m here.  I’m okay.  I’m here.”  /God, that was stupid!  This lot haven’t had any training at all!/ It seemed a massive oversight.  Even people on huge stations like Satellite Five had been better-prepared for a hull breach than that idiot had apparently been!  /And unless they’re on the outside decks, a breach wouldn’t even inconvenience them!/  “I’ll never leave you.  Ever.  You know it.”If at all possible, he pulled her in tighter; till she almost couldn’t inhale at all.  “You’d better not!  Oh, Rose; what if…”She got a hand into his hair; dug her fingertips into his skull, the other hand between his shoulders, to let him know that she was tangibly, palpably still with him.  “Never happen.  I promise.”After a second, the tacit reassurance of her very physical presence managed to calm him, and he somewhat regained his equanimity.  “Alright.  Sorry.  I just…”“I know.  I get it.  Didn’t much like watching you do it, either.”  He’d been the one on the move, after all; shifting his grip and the lot.  Doing things one-handed…  /What if you slipped!/“I know.”  Breathing hard, nodding unnecessarily, the Doctor released her, then with an arm still tight round her waist, half-turned to do a quick visual check of the numbers in the room.  “Did we lose anyone else?  Everyone alright?  Mr. Copper?  Astrid?”“Yeah,” Astrid answered first, rising slowly to dust off her spartan black skirts.  She sounded in shock.“Foon?  Morvin?  Bannakaffalatta?”By now, everyone but Mr. Copper was getting to their feet.  The latter, though, remained on the floor, dazed and with blood still drizzling into his eyes.  Frankly, Rose was impressed that he had managed to hold on to anything. Expression almost as severe by now as Astrid’s uniform, the Doctor pivoted to catch sight of the businessman.  “You.  What was your name?”“Rickston Slade.”“You alright?”Slade waved a dismissive hand toward the hatch and the vanished steward.  “No thanks to that idiot!”Astrid found her voice at this.  “The steward’s just died!” she reminded the man, by way of defending her co-worker from belated slander.Slade clearly didn’t give a damn.  “Then he's a dead idiot,” he pronounced in tones of deepest satisfaction./Too bad you don’t care about the people who work for a living and support your flash lifestyle, you prick!/ Rose thought grimly.  She absolutely hated asshats like him; with a working-class passion.  “Just ignore him, Astrid.”Astrid nodded, breathing through her mouth, and promptly turned her back to see to Mr. Copper’s seeping head.  For lack of anything better, she set to dabbing at the blood with her starched white apron.  Given it was mostly for show, it was hopefully clean enough for such an endeavour.  /Too bad none of us held onto our drinks, or we could drop some of that hundred-proof liquor on it!/Maybe they could have that Slade fellow breathe on it.  No doubt he’d been able to afford a nice tab for alcohol.  /Next best thing; use someone who’s been living the high-life!/The Doctor must have caught her expression, for he laid a soothing hand on her arm as he spoke up.  “Alright, calm down.  Just stay still, all of you.  Hold on.”No one seemed prepared to listen just yet, though.  The hubbub died slightly, but then picked right back up again, the crowd around them far too freaked out to chill just yet.His standard ‘take charge in a crisis’ mode had somewhat restored her tanking mood, though.  “He said, calm down!” Rose added her voice, loudly as she could and with all the authourity she had picked up over the years she had spent first with and then without him.  Helped a bit that she was well and truly miffed.  It lent her energy.  “Shut up and listen, if you want to live!”  And she set her finger to her lips in illustration.  /Like old times, this./As the gathering slowly perked down to silence, she turned back to him, forcibly resetting her irritation to usefulness.  “How can I help?” His hand dropped to her arm by way of silent kudos.  “First, we’ve got to get these people somewhere safe,” he answered, audibly thankful for both her unspoken self-discipline and her voluble support. “But…  What happened?” Astrid asked, looking bewildered.  “How come the shields were down?”“No idea,” the Doctor informed her a bit distractedly.  His expression turned to contained ferocity.  “But I don't think it was an accident.”/Oh.  Lovely./  Angling her body, Rose looked out past the rim of the hatchway, to the rather substantial hole in the side of the ship.  Beyond the oxygen seal, there appeared to be a substantial cloud of floating debris… along with not a few bodies.  /Oh, God.  That’s awful!/Leaning out herself, Astrid flinched and, if possible, went a bit more pale.  “How many dead?”The Doctor was by now in ‘bleak leader mode’.  “We’re alive.  Just focus on that.”  He turned to their waitress friend, expression determined.  “I will get you out of here, Astrid; I promise.  Alright?”  Off her held-breath nod, “Good.”  He turned back to Rose, his attitude with her that of a trusting partner-in-crime, rather than solicitous uncle.  “First, I think we have to get to Reception.”  He pulled a face as he said it, given they had gone out exactly the wrong door to access that area easily./Oh, right.  The TARDIS./  There would be ample room inside her for any refugees they could scrape together.  “Alright.  If that’s the plan, then let’s get on it,” she answered staunchly.  They would have to circle around behind the hall, back toward the lifts, to access that section.  /Take a bit of time.  Best get to it./He flashed her a grateful glance, then made to herd people toward the far end of the corridor. “What’s in Reception?” Rickston Slade demanded with ample scorn.  “Beyond a few useless androids, that is?”The Doctor ignored him to nudge Foon and Morvin in the right direction.  “Budge along.  That’s it.  I've got a spaceship tucked away,” he answered their curious looks.  “We can all get on board, and…”  He trailed off to a halt.  “Oh.”/Oh, great; what now?/“What is it?  What's wrong?” Astrid demanded, voice shaking as their impromptu leader’s confidence audibly faded.The Doctor gestured to the gap in the hull, as if he had just seen something he had heretofore missed.  “That's my ship over there.”Rose followed his gaze, and winced.  No longer safe in Reception, the TARDIS now floated out there with the debris cloud; serenely adrift beyond the oxygen seal… and thus completely out of reach.  /Fantastic.  This time, toppling off a ship.  Like droppin’ into an enormous hole in an asteroid!/  “Great.  Here we go again.”“Right?” the Doctor answered grimly.“But…  Where?” Astrid asked, visibly baffled.“There,” the Doctor pointed, quite downcast.  “That box.  That little blue box.”“That’s a spaceship?”“Don’t knock it,” Rose told her absently, eyes on their unhelpfully vanishing ride. “It’s a bit small,” Astrid ventured.“She’s bigger than she looks,” the Doctor chided, eyes still on his absconding vessel./Alright, but…/  “Is it just me, or is she fallin’?” Rose asked him, really concerned now.The hand in hers tightened a smidge.  “Oh; did I never tell you?  Once she’s set adrift, she’s programmed to lock onto the nearest centre of gravity.”/Oh.  Great./  “And that would be the Earth.”
“Exactamundo.”
Rose blew out a stymied breath.  “Well, that sucks,” she summarised.  “Alright; now what?  I mean, that’s great for not having to find it again because of all the interstellar drifting, but it doesn’t help us much right now, does it.”  /Wonder if this thing actually has lifeboats, or if it’s going to behave exactly like the real Titanic./“No, it does not,” the Doctor agreed softly and with great feeling.  “Well.”  Pivoting back to the control panel, he engaged the speaking tube again.  “Deck twenty-two to the bridge.  Deck twenty-two to the bridge.  Is anyone there?”A new voice answered this time; a young one, and one that sounded understandably shaken.  ‘This is the bridge.’Visibly cheered to be speaking to someone who seemingly wasn’t planning on stonewalling them, the Doctor allowed a faint smile to creep back onto his lips.  “Oh hello, sailor.  Good to hear you.  What's the situation up there?”‘Ah, we've got air.  The oxygen field is holding, but the Captain…’  The tremble in the lad’s voice added a few layers.  ‘Ah, he's dead.  He did it,’ the young voice added, going a bit treble in his anxiety.  ‘I watched while he took down the shields.  There was nothing I could do.’  A sort of a gulp, and his tones went frantic.  ‘I tried.  I did try!’/Oh, poor kid./  Rose intensified her hold on the Doctor’s hand.  “So.  Dead captain, falling ship, some sort of conspiracy, teenager in charge…  Nice work if you can get it.”The Doctor smirked briefly at her in solidarity before returning to the call.  “Alright.  Just stay calm.  Tell me your name.  What's your name?”‘Midshipman Frame,’ the boy answered, stiffening up his voice as he did so.  It was a pathetic attempt at sounding a bit more bass, but give the lad credit, he was doing his level best. /Really, we’re in charge, bein’ honest./The Doctor was in ‘make everyone measure up to their best’ mode.  “Nice to meet you, sir.”  He even sketched a tiny salute with his screwdriver-hand, though the lad couldn’t see him.  “What's the state of the engines?”‘They're, er…’  Frame hesitated.  ‘Hold on.  Oh!’“That’s not a happy ‘oh’,” Rose murmured to her man.  Actually, it had sounded a bit pinched.“No, it was not.”  He depressed the button again, expression deeply concerned.  “Have you been injured?”‘I'm all right.’  But despite this testimony, the shakiness was back in his voice with taxes.  Then, after a second, ‘Oh, my Vot.’/Even better.  Now he’s swearing./  “Mister Frame, report!” Rose cut in before the Doctor could speak up.  Caught the way he stared at her, the faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite the intensity of the situation.  “Shut up,” she whispered to him, letting go the button.  “He needs help, clearly.”The smile widened as he took his turn depressing the switch.  “Mr. Frame?” the Doctor added, going along with her.  And his hand in hers squeezed tightly again, in admiration.‘They're…  They’re cycling down.’/Well, fuck./  “How long do we have, you think?” Rose enquired of the Doctor in an undertone, because now she was fully concerned.The Doctor seemed equally worried about it.  “That's a nuclear storm drive, yes?”The lad on the radio confirmed this last. “Fantastic.  Then the moment they're gone, we lose orbit.”/Oh, great./  “As in, the TARDIS isn’t the only ship fallin’ to Earth right now?”“Yup,” he confirmed, popping the ‘p’ with loud dissatisfaction.“Oh, excellent.”  Now they were on a time-crunch as well.  “Remind me to seek for damages, alright?”  /Mum would already be phonin’./With an appreciative joggle of her hand, the Doctor turned back to the call.  “So.  How long have we got?”‘Ah, I’m not sure, sir.  The planet has grown…  Ah, closer by two Pranek since the holing.’  By now the boy’s voice was fairly quaking, though he was audibly doing his damnedest to firm it up.“That doesn’t sound good,” Rose whispered.  “How much is a Pranek?”“Not enough, is what it is,” the Doctor answered grimly.  “Especially since, if we hit the planet, the nuclear storm explodes and wipes out all life on Earth.”/So, like if Chernobyl went global.  Fantastic./  “Meaning it’s not just us at stake.”  /Guess the old man was right!/  “Really, though; what is it with Christmas?”“Search me,” the Doctor agreed.  “Midshipman, I need you to fire up the engine containment field and feed it back into the core.”A brief pause from the bridge, then a disbelieving sort of mutter.  ‘This is never going to work!’“Trust me,” the Doctor told him sharply.  “It'll keep the engines going until I can get to the bridge.”/Ah.  Alright.  I see the mission now.  And then you’ll use your screwdriver to effect some last-minute repairs.  Excellent.  Glad we have a plan./“We're going to die!” the woman, Foon, was saying somewhere behind them.“Are you saying someone's done this on purpose?” the tour-guide demanded of everyone.   He, too, sounded a bit shaky from where he stood, being half-supported by Astrid.“We are.  We're going to die!”“We're just a cruise ship!” Astrid added with no little terror in her voice.The Doctor waved them all to silence, and inhaled mightily.  Rose could tell by his set features that it was electrifying speech time.  “Okay, okay.  Shush, shush, shush!  First things first.  One.  We are going to climb through this ship.  B.  No.  Two.  We're going to reach the bridge…”“So far, so good,” Rose encouraged him.A firm nod for her support.  “Three; or C.  We're going to save the Titanic…”/Second-time lucky?/“And, coming in a very low four, or D, or that little IV in brackets they use in footnotes, ‘why’.”“I love you.”  And she hoped like hell he could hear the sheer pride in him reflected in those three small, all-important words.He must have, for the Doctor shot her a hasty, adoring glance, his entire frame filled with purpose.  “Right then, follow me!  Allons-y!”“Hang on a minute,” Slade, the rich man, called as everyone obediently trailed them toward the far corridor.  “Who put you in charge; and who the hell are you, anyway?”Rose half-turned back before he could.  “He’s the Doctor!”“Of medicine?” Slade demanded, clearly incensed now.“No; I'm a Time Lord,” the Doctor answered, briefly turning.  “I'm from the planet Gallifrey in the constellation of Kasterborous.”  By now, he was filled with laudable zeal, and it blazed out of his eyes to fall on them all.  “I'm nine-hundred-and-three years old, and I'm the man who's going to save your lives and all six billion people on the planet below.  You got a problem with that?”A brief hesitation, then, “No.”With another tight grin for Rose, he pivoted round a fallen bit of tubing and went dashing off along the next corridor.  “In that case, run!”They ran; a headlong rush, with Rose flying after him and the rest pulling along behind.  As they fled, Rose found herself pondering rather unnecessarily whether that last three accounted for the years she had spent with him; like a sort of exclamation-point… and if so, did it mean anything that she had come into his life at exactly his nine-hundredth year.  Also, she filed away the words ‘constellation of Kasterborous’ for future reference.  /Always good to know more about you!/One thing was sure, though.  This emergency had jolted him back to surety in his mission-statement.  He had visibly cast off the uncertainty that had come of the Master’s tinkering with his mind, come out the other side; at least for the nonce.  /Definitely the last of the Time Lords, now./  It was as if he felt he had to prove his species’ worth all over again, after the mess they had just survived; by being the best he could be and actually saving people.  /Unlike the other one, who went out to harm as many living things as he possibly could in the vicinity./She had no doubt the Doctor would manage it, too.  /Come hell or high water./ She had seen that look on his face before, felt this same energy from him.  Knew no simple accident, or malfunction, or stupid, greedy Scooby-Doo plot was going to stand in his way!  /And I’m going to help him.  Because that’s what I do!  I stay, and I help him, I love him, I never let him down.  And I sure the hell don’t end up sucked out of a porthole, because I never leave!/ Thus resolved, she helped him push open a heavy, thick bulkhead door with some debris thrown against it.  The twisted metal junk screeched along the floor as they thrust the portal ajar, and they picked their way cautiously past it as they stepped over the oval jamb.  “Careful,” the Doctor called to their group as they made their way slowly into the next room.  By now they had penetrated deep into the service areas of the ship, and appeared to be in some sort of industrial stairwell.  “Follow me.”“Watch your step,” Rose added, trying to keep an eye both ahead and behind them as she hopped over a broken bit of shelving.  “Some of this stuff’s sharp.”Behind her, as they gained the centre of the narrow, vertical space held up by a central massive metal beam, she heard the tour guide say in slightly dazed tones, “Rather ironic, but this is very much in the spirit of Christmas.  It's a festival of violence.  They say that human beings only survive depending on whether they've been good or bad.  It's barbaric.”Rose couldn’t take it anymore.  There was too much pressure on as it was, without this sort of nonsense following them along.  “Oh, for God’s sake!” she growled as she stepped round a fallen chunk of something.  “That’s codswallop, is what it is!”“What?” Copper asked, sounding a bit startled at her vehemence.“What she means is,” the Doctor cut in smoothly, “Christmas is a time of peace, and thanksgiving, and…”  He halted then, and tilted his head for Rose’s benefit.  “And, what am I on about?  My Christmases are always like this.”  He tossed aside a broken pipe, his hair a mess and his bow-tie crooked.  He looked quite manic, truth be told.And still, all she could think of in that moment was what he had looked like wearing a colourful paper crown on his head; grinning like a fool as he pulled his second cracker.  “One wasn’t,” she offered by way of reassurance, and lifted a pointed brow at him.  “At the end, anyway.  And since you mostly slept through the rough part of that one, I’d say it counts as mostly-peaceful.”  /I want you to remember it fondly, anyway.  Given we aren’t likely to ever have another like it again./  They could try, between they two, but it wouldn’t be the same as having family about.  /And it never will, if we always have to put out fires on the day of!/Fully in sympathy with her thoughts, he scoffed a little as he stepped past a large, metal box with battered, crumpled sides.  “Aside from losing my hand, is it?”“Fine,” she agreed, helping him to tug aside a bit of grating leaning against the wall.  “But, other than that.  Anyway, you should have heard my speech to the Sycorax.  I’m fairly proud of it, being that I had to make it up on the fly.”“Oh?” he asked, expression interested as he eyed her.  Lifting a hanging bit of electrical cordage, he helped her duck beneath the dangling wires so they could seek out the next rank of steps tending upward.  “What did you say to them?”She shrugged it off, leaning round him to peer into a few options for exits.  “You know, ‘in the name of…  What was it?  Article Fifteen of the Shadow Proclamation, with the authority of the Slitheen Parliament, and the Gelth Confederacy…”  Casting her mind back, she sought for more.  “Oh, right.  As sanctioned by the Mighty Jagrafess.  You know, that sort of thing.  A load of bluster.”He just stared at her for a second… and then the familiar, delighted grin surfaced.  “Really?”/And then they laughed at me.  But you would have appreciated it./  “More or less.  It didn’t work, but it was worth a shot, right?”“Definitely.”  He lifted her hand to his lips once more, looking far too proud of her.  “I thought you said you failed hullabaloo.”It didn’t half suffice, knowing that just by being yourself, you could make a person look at you like that.  “I’ve since made up for it,” she asserted cheerfully.  “On-the-job-training.”“Too right,” he agreed with great feeling.  “The Doctor’s Academy for Interplanetary Leadership Coaching.  Has a ring to it, doesn’t it?”She seized his arm again and hugged it to her as they made their way slowly upward.  “It does.” Things seemed to be going well again.  That was, until a few minutes later, when they found their way ahead entirely blocked by a sort of avalanche of debris.  “Well, that’s unhelpful,” the Doctor muttered, shoving his free hand through his flyaway hair and glancing back at their trailing tour group.  “Hum.”Rose had already scanned the small landing, seeking any way past the pile of fallen space-rubbish.  “Oh!  Look!”  Dashing over to where the wall intersected the stack of rubble lying in their way, she lifted a bit of twisted paneling to reveal one of the golden angel things.  “Will that help us, do you think?”The Doctor pivoted immediately from frustrated to optimistic.  “Could do!”  Turning to their murmuring group, “We've got a host.  Strength of ten.  If we can mend it, we can use it to fix the rubble.”Morvin and Foon immediately stepped forward, willing to do their part.  “We can do robotics.  Both of us.”“Yeah.  We work on the milk market back on Sto.  It's all robot staff.”That Slade fellow was about to get a rude awakening if the two working-class people with the lucky tickets ended up saving their bums in the end. “Excellent!  See if you can get it ticking.”  The Doctor turned back to Rose, including Astrid, the weaving Mr. Copper, and the tiny red fellow whose name Rose might never be able to pronounce in his glance.  He seemed to overlook Slade, though.  “Meanwhile, let's have a look.”They pushed a bit further past the first stack of debris, prodding at bits of it in case any part of it might consent to shift.  Some of it did, though it also rumbled and settled in quite discomfiting ways, as if it were about to topple down and crush them if they pushed it too hard.  About half a flight up, they did locate a gap where the fallen stuff was hung up on a railing, leaving a nice sort of triangular opening. Problem was, it was not at all sizeable.  “It's well blocked,” Astrid pronounced, visibly deflated.“Yes, it is.  Hm.  So what do we do?” the Doctor asked of everyone, generally.Rose held her tongue, aware he was testing their little crew, assessing their mettle.As she might have suspected, Astrid seemed to take this challenge with a bit of starch, the way she drew herself up.  “We shift it!’/Look at you and your impromptu leadership school, inspiring people!/“That's the attitude!” the Doctor cheered, smiling impartially on both Astrid and then back on Rose.  He glanced over his shoulder.  “Rickston, Mister Copper, and you, Bannakaffalatta.”  He halted, expression perplexed and a bit tired.  “Look, can I just call you Banna?  It's going to save a lot of time.”“No,” the little crimson man insisted firmly.  “Bannakaffalatta!”The Doctor rolled his eyes briefly at this insistence on formality.  “Fine.  Bannakaffalatta.  There's a gap just there.  See if you can get through.”The little man leaned over to get a glimpse of the hole.  “Easy.  Good,” he confirmed, and set to climbing the stack.As he started into the hole, the ship shook a bit.  Some of the creaking wreckage settled again, in less-than-inspiring ways.  “This whole thing could come crashing down any minute,” the businessman muttered darkly behind them. “Could you please shut it?” Rose cut him off briskly as she watched the tiny man wriggle his way through.  “If you’re not going to help, keep your your gob closed.”She wasn’t about to let him die, but that didn’t mean she had to like the man.Rickston appeared to take this comment amiss.  “Excuse me!  How da…”“Bannakaffalatta made it!” a little voice echoed through the gap, thus interrupting an offended tirade. Rose turned back in time to see the tiny, shining black shoes vanish beyond the pile of rubbish.  “Oh, well done, Mr. Bannakaffalatta!”“Good.  Easy,” his sharp voice echoed back through the tight space.“Excellent!” the Doctor agreed, fairly vibrating right now as the positives began to tot up on their side of the sum.  “Anyone else think they can get through?”  He lifted a brow in Rose’s direction.“Could try, but not sure my bum would make it,” Rose jested by way of denial.  /Boobs might catch as well.  Worth it, but sounds a bit chafing.  Anyway, you ought to know better./  She would evacuate precisely when he did, and not a moment sooner.  /My leadership training tells me you don’t run off till you’ve gotten everyone else safe, first./As if uninterested in his own course materials, the Doctor kissed her cheek and gave her a little push to start her on her way.  “I’ve no problem giving you a shove if you need it,” he encouraged her with a pat to said bum.“Only one problem with that,” she told him, pushing right back against his urgings.  “That would require leaving you behind.  And look; as men go, you’re skinny enough, but I don’t think you’d get through there too easily, so…”“Rose…” he pled.“No.  I told you I’m never leaving you, alright?”  /Let’s not do this just now!/Locked in a standoff, they both jumped when Astrid crept a bit closer, hesitant.  “I'm small enough.  I think I can get through.”Tearing her eyes away from her infuriated bloke, Rose eyed the other woman up and down.  /Yeah, could do.  You’re as skinny as he is./  “Good idea.  But be careful.”“Yeah.  Easy does it,” the Doctor agreed, handing the woman carefully over the last pile so she could get to her knees and make a go of it.  He, too, seemed grateful that Astrid here had interrupted their little spat over who got to survive the night. It seemed that such matters would forever be a point of contention, between them.  /Well, it’s a function of total adoration of each other, so it could be worse/ Rose reasoned as she helped Astrid to keep her balance on the stack.  /But at least we’re agreed on getting everyone else out./  “Watch your knees!”“I’m fine,” Astrid insisted, wriggling confidently into the badger-hole of junk.  A second or so later, her voice drifted through again, this time from somewhat above them.  “We’ve gotten through to the next landing!”Slade, of course, had to speak up again, because he had the tact of a water buffalo.  “Thing is, how are Mr. and Mrs. Fatso going to get through that gap?”Rose rounded on him, quite willing to fight his rich ass if she had to.  /Just let me hit him!/  “You do know that they’re over there helping all of us with that host, don’t you?” she demanded sharply.The Doctor’s hand fell to her arm.  “Leave it.  It’s not worth it.”  He turned his gaze from her to the whiny businessman.  “We’ll make the gap bigger.  So, start.”The order was uncompromising enough that, with a grunt of displeasure, Slade headed over to one side of the opening and began actually using his hands to do physical labour./‘Bout time you did something useful besides complain!/ Rose thought, feeling understandably bitchy about it as she, too, set to budging the stuff.Unfortunately, the couple appeared to have heard him.  When Rose glanced back, catching a sob from below, she saw that Foon had her head down over the android, looking stricken.  Her husband lightly patted her arm as he went back to fiddling with wires poking out from the thing’s head.  “Hey, hey.  Come on, sweetheart.  Don't listen to him.”/Great.  Now those two are having confidence problems./  As team-players went, Slade wasn’t.  /I wonder if we can pitch that arsehole out of the next meteor hole when we run across one/ Rose thought with some enmity, as she tugged ferociously at one bit of junk blocking the way.  /Bet if I could shift just this one piece a bit more, the Doctor and I can get through.  And I don’t care if Slade fits!/She did want the couple and Mr. Cooper to manage it, though.  “Alright, Astrid?” she called through the hole into which the other woman had vanished.“I can clear it from this side,” she called back.  “Just tell me if it starts moving.”  A shudder of the pile and a metallic shriek as she yanked at something above their heads.  The side hanging over the open stairwell groaned ominously, and Rose rather thought the metal tubing that served as a hand-rail was developing a severe bend as it struggled to uphold the extra weight. Wincing, she swung to jam an unidentified, boxy object further under the edge between her and the railing in hopes it would stabilise the far end.  Astrid had ceased tugging at whatever-it-was, probably giving it up as a bad job and looking for something else to shift. As Rose prodded at things, looking for looser bits, she thought she made out some muffled conversation from further inside.  Sounded a bit like their new friend was asking Bannakaffalatta whether something was wrong.  /What now?/ Rose thought testily while they tugged uselessly at this or that, like a game of rough, life-or-death Jenga.  Behind them, Morvin and Foon had their heads together and were talking about some sort of contest.  Foon sounded quite downcast about it.  Nothing but whispers from beyond the pile, as well. The Doctor was starting to get antsy.  Taking a breather from his efforts, he ducked to glance through the hole.  “What's going on in there?” he called to their counterparts.When Astrid’s voice drifted back out, she sounded elated.  “I think Bannakaffalatta and I just got engaged.”Rose blinked at this surprising development.  “Oh.  Well, that’s lovely!” she called back, startled but happy for them.  “Congratulations!”  /Hopefully he’ll take you on a nice honeymoon; show you the stars!/  Astrid definitely deserved as much.  “Nice story for them, someday!” she commented then, to the folks on this side of the barrier.“Yeah, it is, isn’t it,” the Doctor agreed, staring at her with a sloppy-sweet expression that made her go all mushy.  His gaze soon drifted again, though, face going back to troubled. /Likely has his mind half on other matters, like he tends to do.  Probably solving problem number four while we’re still on number one./  “Life-threatening situations,” she reminded him cheerily, to bring him back to the immediate present.  “Amirite?”Shaken back to current concerns, the Doctor resumed smiling at her.  “Worked for us.  All I had to do was risk your life a few times, then…  Poof.” It came out lightly, but she wasn’t at all fooled.  She well knew he would always feel a bit ashamed at how many times she had been at risk since they had met.  /Oh, please./  “I knew what it was like to lose you even before you had to think of it with me,” she reminded him in low tones as she shoved with her shoulder against a diagonal yellow bar.  “I lost you twice in the span of twenty-four hours, once, so don’t even start!”Relaxing, the Doctor gave in tugging for a second to press his forehead to hers.  “You also saved my life for me on the day we first met,” he agreed in low, fervent tones.She didn’t like it when he sounded like that.  It tended to make him think of doing things ‘for her own good’ that she wouldn’t remotely agree to if asked.  /Things where he chooses to offer himself up in my place, sometimes./  “Yeah, that too.  But listen.  Losin’ you… I wasn’t havin’ it then, and I won’t have it ever!  Just in case you decide to do something self-sacrificing today.”  Knowing him, she wouldn’t put it past him.  /On step three or whatever./  Martha’s warning from the other day had come back to haunt her, with extras, now they were right back in a survival situation.  /Anyway, you had better not!/Her quelling glare had its intended effect.  Biting back the urge, probably, to tell her ‘better me than you’, he instead settled for a quiet, sure, “Same.” Behind them, something unexpectedly shifted a bit.  The piece of debris Rose had been prying at slipped out a bit more as if pulled from another direction.  This in such a way that she thought she really could get through by now.  “Oh, that’s lovely, Astrid!  Can it go any further?”“You can fit through already,” the Doctor pointed out, sounding hopeful./Stop it./  “You know better than that by now, I hope,” she scolded him.  “Honestly!”His face turned so utterly adoring that her single heart flipped over.  “Rose Tyler, I don’t half love you.” /Oh, well, that’s nice!/  “Backatcha,” she informed him with feeling, and leaned past the junk she held to lay an ardent kiss on his lips. In that same moment, there came a bark of laughter from the couple below them.  “What's so funny?”“Five thousand?”Pulling back, Rose angled her gaze across the Doctor’s back to catch sight of the couple below.  /Five thousand what?/Foon had a little sob in her voice when she answered Morvin.  “We'll never pay that off.”“I know.  I'll have to work twenty years, you mad, bloody woman.”  He sounded amused, though, and unbearably fond. “You're not cross?” she asked, clearly baffled at his response to this apparent debt.“Does it matter?  Look at us.  You drive me barmy.”  Unknowingly repeating what they had just said, the man added, “I don't half love you, Mrs. Van Hoff.  Come here.”  Pulling her into him over the android, utterly ignoring her eyes made owlish with dripping mascara, he kissed her.  They rubbed noses with great enthusiasm, both now chuckling.Rose grinned over at the Doctor, feeling an immense sense of goodwill despite the dire circumstances.  /Big disaster, and the whole place is full of love./ “What happened?” Slade bitched, still tugging half-heartedly at a section of the stack to one side of them.  “They find a doughnut?”Rose ignored him to press her forehead to her bloke’s once more before turning back to help shove at the bits she could reach.  /Well, except for Mr. Warbucks here, but that’s just par for the course, innit?/ She couldn’t get the bit on her side to budge much more, but luckily a few minutes later, the couple appeared to attain much better results.  “Almost done!” Morvin called.“Good, good!” the Doctor answered, giving them a thumbs-up.  Rising, he gave over prying at the stack to locate another half-collapsed callbox next to the wall.  “Mister Frame, how's things?” he asked of the midshipman above.‘Doctor, I've got life signs all over the ship… but they're going out one by one.’Rose didn’t blame the lad for being rattled by this point, with all he had on his young shoulders.  /Great, now what?/“What is it?” the Doctor queried, worried now for a whole new reason.  “Are they losing air?”‘No,’ Frame answered, sounding baffled.  ‘One of them said it's the hosts.  It's something to do with the hosts!’At that exact same instant, Morvin shouted, “It's working!”All well and good, except that the first thing the android said as it blinked back to life was, “Kill.”***The Doctor, of course, figured it out while Rose was still working her way through it.  “Turn it off!”/Good bloody thing his brain flies along so fast.  Also, shit!/“I can't!” Foon screamed, backing away as the thing moved to rise.  “Doctor!”“Kill.  Kill.  Kill.”  Rather unhelpfully, the android lunged as Morvin jumped in the way to block its access to Foon.  The host promptly seized him by the throat.“Go!” the Doctor shrieked, and began unceremoniously shoving every one of them toward the hole in the pile. Time was, Rose would have followed his instructions without thought.  Made like a polecat to get away from such an unnerving thing as a golden, angelic robot set to Terminator mode; but no longer.  “C’mon, you lot!” she joined in instead, gesturing wildly for the others to precede her.  “Push hard!  You’ll make it!”  She didn’t think most of them could, but they had to try, right?  /And if one of ‘em gets stuck and then we can’t escape either, then at least we’ll die together./  She highly doubted that, if she was to snuff it, the Doctor would choose to regenerate.  He’d go just like the Master had; holding her the entire time.  /So then, we’ll have to figure a way to get away from the thing, and that’s all of it!  Because no way do I want that to happen.  Nor yet for him to have to go on without me!/Given neither option was palatable, they had best seek for a third.Below, the golden angel was now doing its level best to dash Morvin into unconsciousness against the nearest wall.  Unwilling to allow someone to strangle right in front of him, the Doctor leaped into action, screwdriver out and jammed right into the thing’s face.Nothing happened, though.  “Double deadlock!”“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Rose answered, and dove in to help him bodily pry the thing’s hand off the poor man’s neck.  “Get out of here!” she shouted to the stunned couple once they were freed.“Get back to the corridor!” the Doctor agreed, waving at the rest of the group to flee the way they had come.  “Go on!”“Run, darling, run!” Foon screamed at Morvin, who was still gasping and fingering his bruised throat.“Information.  Kill.  Kill.  Kill.  Kill.”  Implacable, the host stepped between them and the way out, leaving them trapped next to the tottering stack of junk.“Foon!”Their escape route cut off, the Doctor immediately pivoted to a new plan.  “Rickston, get them through!”Self-serving as any rich bastard could be, Slade shook his head and dove right for the widened hole.  “No chance!” he answered, and wriggled his way through the gap, leaving the others behind.“Rickston!” Copper shouted after him.  He wouldn’t fit any better than Morvin and Foon could, and he clearly knew it.“I'll never get through there,” Foon whispered, blanching as she backed away from the host.  The thing was stalking closer along the landing, because nothing that had the visage or name of ‘angel’ in this universe could possibly ever be a good thing./Maybe it’ll trip./“Yes, you can!” Copper insisted gallantly.  “Let me go first.  I’ll widen the gap!”  And he dove for the hole.  Behind him, the couple moved slowly up the cleared steps, walking backward and breathing stertorously.Close enough to attack, now, the host swung at the Doctor.  He ducked easily, jumping between it and Rose.  “Please?” he begged her, crouched and prepared for battle.With Martha’s warning from yesterday still ringing in her ears, she opted for ‘no, thanks’.  “You can fit as well as I can, if Rickston did,” she pointed out.  /For God’s sake!/  “Ask a stupid question,” she added off his glare as she pulled up even with his shoulder, “get a stupid answer.”  /As if I’d leave you to fight this damned thing alone!/  They might have zero chance against it, but still.  /Two’s better than one, I think!/Jumping, she dodged a roundhouse grab from the android and then danced back a bit, feeling impossibly light on her feet as the adrenaline hit.  “At least it’s clumsy!”“Yeah, but one punch can end a life, I’ll wager!” the Doctor told her tautly, and ducked another swing.“Kill.  Kill.”  The android’s unwieldy limb missed a sort of karate-chop for their throats.  Its golden hand instead crashed down on the hand-rail to one side, bending it alarmingly.  The stuff it had held up tilted downward over the open space, thus causing the hole to budge a bit further open. /Like it’s made of cheese and not steel.  But at least it was a help; if it doesn’t fall on us!/  “Don’t you ever get tired of being right all the time?” Rose demanded of the Doctor as she dodged another clumsy but lethal attack.“If I’m right all the time, then you should go!” he shouted back, sounding quite frazzled.Behind them, Foon sobbed for breath as she helped Morvin shove at Copper’s wedged arse.Dancing back, almost colliding with her, the Doctor hit the wallbox with his elbow.  “It's the host!” he cried for the midshipman’s benefit.  “They've gone berserk!  Can you turn ‘em off from up there?”No answer beyond some gasping and groaning.  /Great.  There goes that option./  Rose didn’t even have time just yet to worry about whether their counterpart above had died, or was just unable to reach the communications circuit at the moment.  But if he couldn’t stop these things, then either way he was no help.“Are you safe up there?” the Doctor tried again, jabbing hard at the button with his thumb, then lunging round to one side to avoid a wide wrecking-ball of a punch. Rose had to pull him back before it landed, the way he was keeping in contact with the radio.  “Leave it!” she shouted at him, and jerked him blindly back toward the hole.The host’s golden fist hit the wallbox.  A fizzle of electricity, and then static. /Well, there go communications./  “I guess moral of the story is, never trust anything looks like an angel!” she quipped as they joined Morvin and Foon.  They latter two had gotten Copper through, somehow.  /And I didn’t even think he’d go.  Does that mean those two might also make it?/ It was a vain hope, but it was all they had. “Kill.  Kill.  Kill.”The chanting was starting to get a bit annoying.“Sure seems that way of late,” the Doctor was saying, arm now across her chest as if by it he could protect her from a death-blow.  “It’s a bit backward, though, isn’t it?  Deadly angels?”“Still.  It seems like it’s true,” Rose muttered, and had to duck again. “Yeah; at least in our lives!” the Doctor agreed grimly.They had nowhere left to go, and was it mad that in a moment like this, the startling clarity of fight-or-flight meant that she actually felt stupidly happy with the way he had just said ‘our’?“Now I’m stuck!” Foon screamed; a muffled sound from a mouth now on the far side of the stack. “Come on, you can do it!” Astrid’s barely-audible encouragement drifted back to them through the wall of debris.  There followed a lot of concerted grunts as everyone on the other side tugged at Foon’s arms. /Well, probably not Slade./  Copper would be helping, though, damaged head or no. The wall shifted further, rasping alarmingly.  The golden angel swung again, and they danced back.  “Kill.  Kill.  Kill,” it insisted, nearly striking the pile. “It’s going to collapse!” Copper shouted from the other side of the mess.  There came a creak, some tottering of the stack, and mutters from Copper, who appeared to be using a sort of makeshift lever to raise a fallen beam.  “Rickston, Vot-damn it, help me!”“No way!”Rose had to hit the floor to avoid a clumsy swing that could have as easily removed her head from her shoulders.  She clambered back to her feet, dodging another strike as she did so.  “Can’t we just throw Slade at it as a sacrifice?”  /He’s not exactly helping anyone!/At least Foon had made it beyond the pile by now.“Kill.  Kill.  Kill.”“Morvin, get through!” the Doctor near-screamed, and seized something that might have once been a handrail, for a weapon of sorts.“Ow!” Morvin cried as he rapped his skull on the collapsing beams.  To one side, Copper groaned as he fought to keep his lever in place for even a few seconds more.“Kill.  Kill.  K…”  The bit of railing struck the golden face broadside.  The host didn’t appear the slightest bit fazed.  “Information.  Kill.”“Doctor, he’s stuck!” Astrid shrieked.Spinning on her heel, her breath coming in gasps, Rose jammed her shoulder familiarly into Morvin’s purple-clad arse and shoved with all her might.  “Sorry about it!”Ducking another punch, the Doctor smashed the android across the face again, then dove down to join her, sweat running down his face.  “Mr. Van Hoff, I know we’ve only just met, but you’ll have to excuse me.”  And he unceremoniously added his heft to the task.They shoved in concert, and breathed again as the poor man shot through the hole like a cork from a bottle.  /He’ll be torn up, but he’s alive./  “Go!  Doctor!”With a snort, he grabbed her and bodily shoved her toward the hole next.  “Honestly, Rose!”He had a point, she supposed, and got through as swiftly as she could, all the time her mind’s eye sending her horrific images of him being battered to bits while waiting for her to get out of his way.  But now she could hear his sharp gasps as he plunged right in after her, could feel his hands at her heels, and immediately felt a hundred-percent better.Luckily, with the hole widened as much as it had been, they were able to get past the stack fairly swiftly.  Helped that there were hands to drag them through, once they gained the halfway point.  “There!  Got you!” Astrid called, jolting her right out onto her face across the next step up.  She was already turning back to fetch their last refugee.  “C’mon, Doctor!”Mr. Copper, who was leaning full-bodied on his lever, had the Doctor’s hand before Rose could pick herself up to help.  As such, she only got a hand on him as he tumbled out.  She nearly passed out from the relief of it.  Part of her still feared that that thing might catch hold of his ankles or something, if they weren’t careful.To her horror, her man ignored them all to turn right round and stick his head back into the hole.  “Information override!” he shouted into the gap.  “You will tell me the point of origin of your command structure!”Above him, Copper ground out a few words as he pushed down hard on his lever with all his strength.  “I can’t hold it!”  His face was going purple from strain, his head-wound seeping blood. Rose leaped to her feet and raced over to help him keep up the pressure.  “Doctor!”  The beam had since slipped from the bent railings, leaving behind a hole maybe a half-meter tall and the same wide.  “Get out!”“Information,” the android answered him, as if it weren’t just shouting ‘kill!’ at them like a morbid metronome.  “Deck thirty-one.”“Thank you.”  Pulling his head back through, the Doctor nodded firmly toward Rose and Copper.  “Alright.  Let go!”Relieved, Copper let go the bar he held, Rose doing the same.  The debris immediately crashed right down; just as the host made to wriggle into the hole.  Consequently, the weight of the entire stack crushed it to smithereens when it settled. “Well.  That’s handy,” Rose gasped, and lowered her hands to her knees to do some concerted deep-breathing.  “Doctor, someday you’re gonna be the death of me.”Grabbing her up, completely ignoring her exhausted gasping, he whirled her round in the air and laid a hard, smacking kiss on her lips.  “Don’t ever say that!” he scolded her, then released her to stagger back against Mr. Copper.  “Alright, everyone?” he queried briskly.Everyone nodded dumbly, still catching their breath.“Excellent!  On we go!  Forging ever onward!”Grabbing his arm as he made to head off up the steps, Rose proceeded to capture his head in her hands.  “You’re a total and complete idiot,” she insisted, and returned the kiss with feeling.Released, he sent her a smile so bright she thought his face would crack in half.  “See?  This is how we keep things new!  Life-or-death!”/Better than catatonic with grief, I suppose./  “Stop it.  C’mon.”  Grabbing his hand, Rose dragged him, sparkling with excitement, on to the next task.  “We’ve still got the second step to do, right?”“Indeed we do!” he agreed, his hand as ever seated firmly in hers.*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

TWELVE:
Huddled in what appeared to have been a food-services area before the meteorites, the refugees dealt with their shock in various ways.  Astrid was poking about the space, checking supplies, since the chamber appeared deserted of other staff.  Copper was leaning back against a wall, holding something to his head and moaning a bit.  Slade was pacing around, trying to get his communicator to work—they all called it a ‘vone’, which Rose assumed was an elision of video-phone—while Morvin and Foon curled up together on a pile of tablecloths, murmuring sweet nothings.  Bannakaffalatta, meanwhile, was busy chatting up his intended; proffering little appreciative comments her way as she busily poked through various cupboards.  After a few minutes, thought, the reclining scarlet man appeared to fall asleep, as if the previous adventure had exhausted him beyond all measure. /I feel you/ Rose thought at him, as fatigue crept up to take over where epinephrine had failed her. To one side, the Van Hoffs had discovered an abandoned food-cart.  “Look, Morvin!  Sandwiches!”“Oh great,” Slade carped.  “Someone’s happy.”“Don’t have one, then,” Morvin told him shortly as he passed one to his wife. Slade ignored him to return to his apparently useless attempts at phoning for help.  Rose was really starting to hope the man might suffer some sort of fatal accident.  His attitude was truly beginning to wear on her. The Doctor had located another comm-box, and was busy trying to raise the bridge.  Maybe to ascertain if Midshipman Frame was still with them.  “Mister Frame, are you still there?”This time, he got a response.  ‘Yes, sir, but I've got a host outside.  I've sealed the door.’/Ah.  Fantastic./“They've been programmed to kill.  Why would anyone do that?”‘That's not the only problem, Doctor,’ the boy answered, sounding even shakier than he had earlier.  ‘I had to use a maximum deadlock on the door; which means no one can get in.  I'm sealed off.  Even if you can fix the Titanic, you can't get to the bridge.’Well, that was just brilliant news, wasn’t it?The Doctor absorbed this with a tad less serenity than he might have an hour ago.  “Yeah, right, fine,” he acknowledged in his, ‘what else is new?’ tone.  “One problem at a time.”  He popped his glasses back on, which Rose well knew to be a sign that he was onto something.  “What's on deck thirty-one?”/Oh, right./  She had clean forgotten about that last bit of intelligence, what with all the mad scrambling to stay alive.‘Er, that's down below,’ Frame reported, audibly confused.  ‘It's nothing.  It's just the host storage deck.  That's where we keep the robots.’Any other time, it might seem like nothing, but Rose would wager that it actually meant something significant, given the recent behaviour of said robots. “Well,” the Doctor agreed, prodding at a readout on the screen next to the comm-box.  “What’s that, then?  Do you see that panel?  Black.  It's registering nothing.  No power, no heat, no light.”Rose stood and approached, intrigued.  “That seems a bit dodgy.”“Shielded,” the Doctor informed her, tones crisp with surmise.‘I've never seen it before,’ Frame admitted, apparently flummoxed.“One-hundred-percent shielded,” the Doctor muttered in tones that told Rose he was absorbed in the puzzle.  “What's down there?”‘I'll try intensifying the scanner,’ Frame offered.“Let me know if you find anything.  And keep those engines going!”They settled back to the floor below the intercom, briefly stymied.  Trying her best to ignore the fact that there were open flames behind them, merrily eating their way into something electrical, Rose sighed and laid her head against his.  The energy of earlier had definitely deserted her.  She was suddenly quite depleted.  “You know what?  We still haven’t eaten.”“Oh, yeah,” the Doctor agreed, absently and while seemingly wholly focussed on counting her fingers amongst his own. /We’re fizzling out, now the stress has dropped a bit.  Probably low on blood-sugar, as well./  Last meal they had had was with Jack and Martha, yesterday.  /And not a lot of it before then, I bet; for either of us.  Then a funeral, and some painful farewells, sex, and then this.  All in all, a bad combination if we’re meant to keep this up for much longer./As if reading their minds, Astrid approached, bearing sandwiches.  “Saved you some.  They’re a bit stale, but they’re nice enough,” she offered, holding out one each.“Bless you,” Rose answered, taking hers in her free hand.  “You’re a wonderful person.”  It smelled alright, at least; not gone over.  Anyway, she was certainly game to try them.“Mm,” the Doctor agreed, relieving her of the other.  “Thank you, Astrid.”“Well.  You might be a Time King from Gaddabee, but you need to eat.”The Doctor chuckled at the unintentional levity.  “Gaddabee.  I like that.”  He nudged Rose with his shoulder as he unwrapped the offering.  “Time King.  What do you think?  Should I change it?  Give m’self a promotion?”“Could do,” she answered round a mouthful of what tasted something like roast beef.  “No one around to contradict you or challenge your claim, innit?”  The more she could get him to talk about it, the better.“True,” he answered equably and as if the thought didn’t bother him at all.  Like he had staggered back to the former state of acceptance of his solitary status that he had achieved before they had run into ‘Harold Saxon’.  Having exposed a corner of his own sandwich, set to gnawing at it.  “Hm.  Tastes of turkey.  What’ve you got?”“Something beef-ish.”  /One of these days, we’ll hash it out.  When we’re not in a survival situation.  If that ever happens./With her fiancé down for the count, Astrid appeared unwilling to resume her perigrinations, and settled wearily to her bum at their sides.  She had her own sandwich in hand, and set to unmasking it with weary attention.  “So.  You look good for nine-hundred-and-three,” she commented with understandable curiosity.Rose grinned tiredly over at him.  “You should see him in the mornings.”He returned the expression, tickled by her very English comment.Quite daring, now, Astrid allowed a tentative smile.  “I’d love to, but it looks like he’s taken.”“Yeah, he is,” Rose answered with some satisfaction, and took another bite of her sandwich.  She found herself smiling fatuously at her bloke as she tucked her free hand under his arm. Catching it, he couldn’t help but to grin back at her with equal, if tired, attention.  After a mo’ though, he dragged his focus back to Astrid.  “So, ah…”To one side, Copper appeared to have registered the time.  “Doctor, it must be well past midnight, Earth time,” he called.  “Christmas Day!”“Oh, yeah,” Rose agreed, feeling a bit startled to realise it was true.  She took another bite of her meal, chewed swiftly, swallowed, and wished she still had something to drink to wash it down.  It was a bit dry.  “Happy Christmas, Doctor,” she intoned, and lightly tapped her half-eaten sandwich to his.“Happy Christmas, Rose Tyler,” he answered her toast with a glowing sort of look that, as per usual, took her breath.  “And Merry Christmas to you as well, Mr. Copper!” he added without at all altering his focus.Astrid looked from one to the other of them, apparently baffled.  “This Christmas thing; what's it all about?”The Doctor plucked halfheartedly at his meal as he resumed the suspended conversation.  “Long story.  I should know, I was there.  I got the last room.”“Oh, now you’re having us on!” Rose exclaimed around her next bite. “No, I did!”“Oh, please!  Seriously?” He sent her a very solemn look.  “Would I lie about something like that?”Subsiding, Rose had to admit to being confounded.  “Well.  Who knew!”“But if the planet's waking up, can't we signal them?” Copper asked, pursuing his own lead now.  “They could send up a rocket or something.”“They don't have spaceships,” the Doctor informed him without looking up.  His sandwich mustn’t be all that tasty, the way he was picking at it without eating much.  Not that Rose was too excited about hers, but she was also ravenous by now. “No, I read about it.  They have shuffles.  Space-shuffles.”/Speaking of things we can’t remotely take seriously./  “Honestly; where did you get all this?” Rose asked, before resignedly setting to the second half of her roast-beef surprise. “Yeah.  Mr. Copper, this degree in Earthonomics; where's it from?”“Honestly?” Copper returned, looking a bit flustered.“Just between us,” the Doctor urged, eyes traveling from Rose to Astrid to Copper and back. Copper sighed heavily, as if he were relieving some terrible weight he had carried for far too long.  “Mrs. Golightly's Happy Travelling University and Dry Cleaners.”“Aaand, there it is!” Rose murmured under her breath.The Doctor made a noise of rueful agreement as he finally consented to take another unwilling bite.Astrid appeared horrified at this admission.  “You…  You lied to the company to get the job?” she whispered, lowering her own meal.Copper looked pensive in response to the accusation.  “I wasted my life on Sto.  I was a travelling salesman.  Always on the road, and I reached retirement with nothing to show for it.  Not even a home.  And Earth sounded so exotic.”/I mean…/“Hm.”  The Doctor sounded as if he sort of agreed.  “I suppose it is, yeah.”“You only say that because you’re fond of the wildlife,” Rose accused good-naturedly.Far from protesting, he leaned back to regard her with interest.  “Should I be offended, or claim guilty as charged?”Banter was the order of the day when you were recovering from a near-death experience.  “Depends on if you consider me ‘wild’.”He snickered at her sally.  “Oh, I dunno if I want to answer that.  Might get m’self in trouble.”He was quite well-trained by now, wasn’t he?“How come you know it so well?” Astrid enquired curiously.  “Earth.”“Ah, a few years ago, I was made… sort of homeless,” he informed her by way of explanation.  Hearing the faint, wistful note in his voice, Rose tightened her hold on his free hand.  “And there was the Earth,” he went on with a tiny, fond smile.  Sighing, he took another bite of his faux-turkey club and chewed with a contemplative expression.  “They adopted me,” he finished, with an affectionate look which Rose returned with taxes.  “I had a family there, for the first time in really a very long time…” /Yes, you did./“And it was lovely, while it lasted.”  Clearing his throat, he set aside the half-eaten meal like it had stung him.  “So.  In their honour…  Best get back to work!”Rose caught hold of him before he could escape.  “Finish your sandwich.”  When he glanced back at her, humming with anxious energy, “Please?  For me?  Anyway, you’ll need it as we go on.”He hesitated, then exhaled and settled back next to her.  “Fine.  For you.”  Nudging her lightly with his elbow, he picked up the one she had dropped in her lap in order to grab him, handed it back.  “But only if you take your own advice and finish eating as well.”“Aye aye, sir.”  His smile quickly went a bit mischievous round the edges.  “Alright, don’t get any ideas, you.”“The thing is,” Copper broke in again, “if we survive this, there'll be police and all sorts of investigations.  Now the minimum penalty for space-lane fraud is ten years in jail.  I'm an old man.  I won't survive ten years.”Rose sighed and finished off the last of her roast beef product.  “You can’t be that old.”  /Wonder if there’s any juice or milk about./She never got the chance to find out.  They all jumped as one when a loud bang resounded throughout the room.  It emanated from the door behind them… and it was repeated as swiftly.  “A host!” the Doctor exclaimed, shooting to his feet.  “Move!  Come on!”Rose joined him, willing her adrenaline to kick back to life.  “Let’s get on, everyone!  Onward and upward!”***First one to the next crossroads, Rose picked a doorway at random.  It took them down another corridor, and into a veritable maze.  Most of the passages to either side were barred with emergency hatches, however; and after what had happened to the steward, none of them were all that keen on giving them a go. They passed only one open exit, thereafter.  “How about this one, since the others are all dogged tight down?” she proposed, one hand on the sill.  Peered inside, then back at her bloke.  “Got a lot of light comin’ from it.  Got to go somewhere useful.”“Might as well,” the Doctor agreed easily, following her lead. They marched determinedly on into the unknown, hand-in-hand.  Behind them, their team filed along single-file, exclaiming and stepping over each subsequent pile of rubbish.  /Never know.  Soon we might actually find our way to the top!/ It appeared to be the right choice, at first, given it emptied out into a larger, curved space rather than another of these endless corridors.  That was till the Doctor sonicked open the last hatch.  They soon found themselves in an engine room; just past the bulkhead from that last, large, arc of corridor.  One that let them know precisely why they had been going in circles.It was a bit of a daunting sight.  Just this one massive, empty space right through the middle of the ship, with the nuclear storm-drive far beneath them, whirring away and giving off enormous amounts of light and heat.  Like they were in the cooling rods of Chernobyl, but larger; a vast vertical shaft running through the heart of the vessel, top to bottom.  /And likely only the exterior corridors pass it by.  Now we’re at the centre of the ship, the only way forward is through.  Damn./Made it a bit of a dead end, given the only available bridge appeared to have been shattered right across its middle by something fallen from above.  “Well, that’s just unfair!”  Rose trailed off, feeling briefly stymied.“Yeah, it is, isn’t it?” the Doctor agreed, leaning carefully over to assess their height above all that lay churning below.  “Well, at least we’ve a way forward,” he added, waving a hand to one side. She followed his gaze back to the purported walkway, eyed it narrowly.  He had a point, that it did at least appear to be holding together, still.  “Hm,” she answered by way of letting him know she wasn’t excited about it.  /Alright, but if it breaks…  That’s a bloody long fall, is what it is./“Is that the only way across?” Slade called, sounding a bit testy about it.The Doctor scowled, before answering with his customary certitude.  “On the other hand, it is a way across.”  Moving over toward the hand-rail that led down some steps to the broken causeway, he murmured something about structural integrity, and pulled out his screwdriver once more.Rose smiled to herself as she approached the makeshift bridge, gave it an experimental kick to test its sturdiness.  /I do wonder how often you’re just wingin’ it, my love./Astrid had bent over since, and was looking down at the bright, turbulent mass below with an understandable anxiety.  “The engines are open.”The Doctor nodded briskly, his voice reflecting only a bitty corner of his own worries.  “Soon as it stops, the Titanic falls.”/As in, we’ve got to get a move on!  And it seems we’ve only the one option./  It mightn’t be a good one, but as the Doctor had put it?  It existed, and that was enough. Safe or no, they had little choice but to trust the failing bridge.  /There it is, then.  Keep calm and carry on, and all that./“But that thing,” Morvin put in, doubtful, “it'll never take our weight.”“Yeah; you're going last, mate,” Slade answered, because he couldn’t bring himself to let one opening go by.The Doctor winced a little, though only Rose could see it.  “It's nitrofin metal.  It's stronger than it looks.”  Half-turning, he caught her eye.  “I don’t suppose you’ll go across first?  For my peace of mind?”“As what?  The example of good faith for the others?” she teased, because while she knew he just wanted her safe, the others would likely see it as him saying, ‘Look; if I’m going to send my girl over there, then you lot should be fine with it!’Catching the implication, he pulled an exasperated face.  “You’re determined to drive me round the twist, aren’t you.”Resettling her hands on his arm, she reached up to kiss his cheek.  “No.  But I’m stayin’ right here with you, and you know it.” He blew out a breath and, rolling his eyes heavenward, added, “Alright; fine.  But next time, we’ve got to come up with a better plan for this sort of thing!”“Deal.”  /But you’re not changin’ my mind about sticking with you, so I’d let that one go./Morvin had moved round behind them in the interim, to lean over the edge and eye the middle bit of the bridge.  “All the same, Rickston's right.  Me and Foon should…”He never got to finish.  Between one step and the other, the taxed metal beneath his foot gave way like it was made of tin roofing.  Rose and the Doctor both lunged alongside Foon, trying to catch him, but it was no good.  With a terrified scream, he tumbled forward and down; straight toward the blazing nuclear furnace below.  “MORVIN!”Rose and Astrid caught Foon before she could follow him.  The poor woman was shuddering and sobbing, of course, as she clung and stared in horror.  Meanwhile, off somewhere behind them, Slade was shouting, “I told you.  I told you!” and Copper was berating at him to “Just shut up!  Shut up!”“Bring him back!” Foon cried, weeping and staring wildly from that lot to the two of them.  “Can't you bring him back?  Bring him back, Doctor!”/Oh, that’s going to sting.  Asking the one thing of him he’s not allowed to do./“I can't,” he answered; and with it came the flood of guilt he felt each time some innocent died in the middle of something he thought he should be able to change.  “I'm sorry, I can't.”Coming on the heels of so many other lives he had managed to bring back, but had to see lost first, it would hit him hard. As if to make matters worse, “You promised me!” Foon insisted; tears streaming down her face, her make-up long since made a casualty to the day./Dammit.  I wish we could!/“I know,” the Doctor near-whispered it.  “I'm sorry.  I'm so sorry.”/And there’s another nightmare to add to the list./  Rose rather thought there might be a few, coming up.  There had been a number of them in the past; mostly ending in him clutching her tight to his chest and chanting that he would never let her go, never let them snatch her away from him.  Those nightmares had been easy to parse, if telling as to why he seldom chose to sleep, before she had been there to accompany him.  /But this.  He’s gonna need a lot of holding, for all this!/They didn’t get long to contemplate the tragedy before te painful tableau was interrupted by the sounds of marching, metal feet.  /Hosts.  Oh, this just gets better and better!/“Doctor, I rather think that those things have got our scent!” Mr. Copper interrupted the heartbreak, looking quite terrified. Slade was already over it.  “I'm not waiting!” he announced, and immediately set off to cross the bridge. “Careful!  Take it slowly!” the Doctor called after him. /Yeah; you go first.  Let us know if it’s safe.  And if you fall, none of us will cry about it./Rickston Slade wasn’t really the sort of person one wished to cheer for.  Anyway, it appeared easier said than done.  Just as the prick set across, the ship shuddered mightily and nearly shook him off.  Falling to his belly on the beam, the man began to mutter prayers to whoever the hell ‘Vot’ was. “You're okay!” the Doctor called to him, rising and, for some inexplicable reason, undoing his tie.  “A step at a time.  Come on, you can do it.”“I'm okay,” Slade agreed, almost as if he were trying to convince himself.Faintly, coming from the other side of the vents in the walls, a familiar chant rose.  “Kill.  Kill.  Kill…”“They're getting nearer!” Copper called rather unnecessarily.Tossing aside the tie to dangle, his collars now open, the Doctor yanked out his screwdriver.  “Seal us in!” he muttered, setting about with the thing to close off the vents with sliding panels. /He’s panickin’.  He doesn’t want us to know it, but the pressure’s gettin’ to him./  Rose knew what that meant.  He was running out of even the options his high-powered brain could drum up.  /Shit, shit, this is bad!/“You're leaving us trapped, wouldn't you say?” Copper demanded anxiouslyThe Doctor shot Rose a look filled with buyer’s remorse, before he turned back to Copper.  “Never say trapped.  Just inconveniently circumstanced!”It was pretty obvious double-speak.  “Ohhh,” Copper replied, looking a bit faint.Rose had her arms full of a weeping Foon, but she kept one eye out for her bloke as he went about ensuring no hosts got in.  As he set to sonicking the bulkhead controls, the woman in her embrace was sobbing out hopeful comments.  “Maybe he's alright!” Foon argued with fate.  “Maybe…  Maybe there's a gravity curve down there or something!  I don't know; maybe he's just unconscious!”Rose sent Astrid a helpless look from where the other woman crouched on Foon’s far side, trying her best to soothe the bereft widow.  /Thing is, if she’s the one got them the tickets, she’ll feel like it’s her fault.  Ouch./Astrid’s expression showed the same powerlessness as she turned back to their charge.  “I'm sorry, Foon.  He's gone.”Foon went back to sobbing wordlessly in their arms; a pathetic sight when you could do nothing to help.  Meanwhile, across the gap, Slade appeared to have gained the far side.  “Yes.  Oh.  yes!  Who's good!”The Doctor shot Rose a pleading look.  “What about you two?” he asked of both her and Astrid collectively.Rose nodded encouragingly at Astrid.  “Go on.  I’ll stay with her.” Hearing this, Bannakaffalatta held out a gentlemanly hand.  “Bannakaffalatta small.  Bannakaffalatta help!”With a last, terrified glance towards Rose, Astrid got to her feet and headed off with her fiancé.“Slowly!” the Doctor bellowed after them.By now the hosts appeared to be hammering on the bulkhead door in an attempt to break in.  They were doing a good job of it, too, considering the dents they were making.  /Well, that can’t be good./  Rose had known they were strong, but that was just beyond belief!  /That door’s a solid eight centimetres thick!/“They've found us!” Copper angsted, all but dancing now in his wrinkled tweed kit.Astrid hesitated at the edge of the bridge, Bannakaffalatta holding out a hand to escort her.  “Astrid, get across right now!” the Doctor ordered fiercely.“What about you lot?” she called back, worry written all over her earnest face.The Doctor darted another glance toward Rose, Foon, and Copper.  “Don’t worry about us; just go!”  He turned back to Copper.  “Mr. Copper, we can't wait.” “No, but we…”“Don't argue.  Foon, you've got to get across right now.”  His entire mien tightened.  “Rose!”He had his take-charge face on.  Aware he wasn’t going to compromise on this one, she sighed and gamely helped Foon to her feet.  “We get them across first,” she insisted to him as they neared the bridge. Foon, though, had gone right through grief and come out the other side in some immobile place without hope.  “What for?” she asked them all at large.  “What am I going to do without him?”From the far side, Slade was banging on the opposite door.  With another curse, he turned back.  “Doctor!  The door's locked!”The Doctor sent Rose a mute, pleading look. /Fine./  With a nod, she turned to Foon, caught her arms.  /I’ve got to get you moving if I’m to get across and help that asshat with the door./  Likely the Doctor meant for her to take the screwdriver with her, while he played rearguard.  /Well, first thing’s first./  “What would Morvin want you to do?” she tried gently.Foon seemed to collapse in on herself.  “He don't want nothing.  He's dead!”Feeling a bit lost, Rose held Foon as she wept on.  Clearly at his wits’ end, the Doctor laid an arm across her back as well.  “We’ve got to get her moving!”Rose glanced back at the bridge.  By now Astrid and Bannakaffalatta were halfway across, creeping over the broken bit.  Mr. Copper was making his start.  On the far side, Slade had turned back to them, frustration and fear making him a caricature of his previous, in-control self.  “Doctor, I can't open the door!  We need the whirling key thing of yours!”The Doctor looked torn.  Rose knew he wouldn’t leave Foon behind, so she blew out a breath and held out a hand.  “Alright; you get your way this time.  Give it to me.  What setting?”The Doctor’s eyes softened to something made of pure, relieved appreciation.  “Two-thousand, four-hundred and…”“…Twenty-eight-D,” Rose finished for him, feeling sure of her ground, now. Despite the dire circumstances, he had the beginnings of a fond smile on his face now.  “Yeah.  Same as with the…”“The chain-link fence.  Yeah.  Got it.”Grabbing her by the neck, he dragged her in, gave her a blistering kiss that bruised, then plopped the screwdriver into her hand.  “I’ll meet you on the other side”, he vowed.“You’d better!”  Pressing her cheek briefly to his, she released Foon to his care and darted toward the rickety structure. As Rose set on her way, moving with great care and with the screwdriver tucked safely inside her bodice to keep her hands free, Bannakaffalatta shouted from three-quarters of the way along.  “Too many people!”  He looked petrified even as he went on holding out a hand to assist Astrid over the broken bit.“Oi!” the Doctor called back.  “Don't get spiky with me.  Keep going!”The bridge shifted a bit as Astrid reached the far side of the gap.  Stuck behind Mr. Copper, who was wavering in his balance, Rose hissed and reflexively grabbed hold of a nearby strut. “It's going to fall!” Astrid cried, terror on every vowel.“It's just settling,” the Doctor insisted.  “Keep going!  Rose; don’t stop!”She knew very well what he was doing, was the thing; and that was lying through his teeth.  /He knows it could collapse at any moment.  He doesn’t want anyone to stop for too long out of fear./  Well, she could help with that.  “Get on, Mr. Copper, please!”  /We’re out of time!/With a twitch to bring himself back to his business, the old man nodded and, breathing hard through his mouth, began to negotiate his current obstacle.All of a sudden, the vast chamber went utterly silent.  To the point that Rose, as she pursued Mr. Copper over the pile of junk in her way, felt the absence of the banging like a sound of its own.  “They’ve stopped.”“They have!” Astrid agreed, looking about.“Gone away?” Bannakaffalatta asked, sounding relieved.“But why would they give up?” the Doctor asked of no-one in particular. “Never mind that!” Slade shouted from the far side.  “Keep coming!”The Doctor did mind it, though.  “Where have they gone?  Where are the hosts?”Just in front of Rose, Mr. Copper spoke in tones of greatest dread.  “I'm afraid we've forgotten the traditions of Christmas.”  He pointed upward.  “That angels have wings!”/Oh, Christ!/ Rose thought, following his gaze. He was right.  At least five of the things were floating down from above as they spoke.  /Well, that’s just great./Within seconds, they were surrounded.  “Information.  Kill.”“With what?” Rose demanded, overwrought.  Bad enough to be stuck like this, suspended over a massive nuke on a shaky, overburdened bridge.  /Add in flying assassins, and it’s been a lovely stay!/She got her answer when the things began to remove their haloes, holding them like frisbees.  “Oh.  Brilliant.”“Arm yourself, all of you!” the Doctor shouted, wrenching a rod off a pile of debris and placing himself square in front of Foon. Groaning, Mr. Copper dug around for something to use like a cricket bat.  Rose had already located her own weapon in the pile; a nice, long bit of piping.  The others were doing the same.  /Good thing I’m still close enough to be helpful/ Rose thought as she crouched to prepare herself for combat. The haloes came flying in like boomerangs; fast and thick.  As each one soared close, one or the other of them smacked it away with their improvised bat.  “Bloody angels, amirite?” the Doctor shouted to Rose as they battled on. “Definitely!” she agreed, whacking a halo back toward its owner. Problem was, the things kept coming right back to be thrown again; like that thing on Xena; Warrior Princess.  Eventually, someone was going to get damaged; and the first one to be hurt was, of course, the Doctor. She flinched with him as one of the haloes struck him in the shoulder, the sharp edge cutting his suit-coat open and nicking his left bicep.  A second later, one struck Mr. Copper in his side, because that man couldn’t catch a break today.  Beyond them, Astrid was ducking and probably terrified she might fall at any moment.  “I can’t!” she shrieked, frozen in dread.The little crimson man reached out to touch her on the leg.  “Bannakaffalatta stop.  Bannakaffalatta proud.”  Abruptly, he ripped open his white dress-shirt.  “Bannakaffalatta cyborg!”To everyone’s amazement, a blue energy pulse shot out from what looked to be some sort of metal on his small torso.  Whatever it was, it helped immensely.  As the pulse hit the hosts, they all seemed to short-circuit; hanging in the air for a brief second with their servos shutting off… and then plummeting as a group down toward the engine core.  Only one remained, falling face-down right beyond the Doctor, on the catwalk they had all just left.“Well, that’s a nice trick,” Rose exclaimed with admiration. “Electromagnetic pulse!” the Doctor agreed, totally enthused.  “Took out the robotics.  Oh, Bannakaffalatta, that was brilliant!”Bannakaffalatta, though, had collapsed.  /What’s wrong?/ Rose thought, starting toward him. “He's used all his power!” Astrid moaned, looking devastated.“Did good?” the little man asked her, eyes hopeful on hers. By her expression, she found him even more worthy now than she already had.  “You saved our lives.”It seemed all the answer he needed.  “Bannakaffalatta happy.”Astrid was bent over him now, tugging at his middle, her voice turning desperate.  “We can recharge you!  Get you to a power point and just plug you in!”She slowed when the tiny hero shook his head a bit.  “Too late.”/Oh./  Rose closed her eyes.  /Not another one./“No,” Astrid told him, sorrow drenching her response.  “But you’ve got to get me that drink, remember?”Bannakaffalatta just smiled at her.  “Pretty girl,” he whispered.  Then, his eyes fell closed.  His spiny red body went utterly still./God; we’re dropping like flies!/Astrid sadly began closing his shirt.  Before she could, Mr. Copper reached round her for something.  “I'm sorry.  Forgive me…”“Leave him alone!”“But it's the EMP transmitter,” the man told her as he tugged something cylindrical from the body.  “He'd want us to use it.  I used to sell these things.  They'd always give me a bed for the night in the cyborg caravans.  They're good people.  But if we can recharge it, we can use it as a weapon against the rest of the hosts.”  He lifted the object and waved it, clenched tightly in his fist.  “Bannakaffalatta might have saved us all!”“Do you think?” Slade shouted, pointing back across the bridge.  “Try telling him that!”Rose pivoted back in time to see the angel that had fallen behind the Doctor was stirring.  “Doctor!”“Information.  Reboot.”“Use the EMP!” Slade ordered.Copper lifted it, but it didn’t do anything.  “It's dead!”Rose started back toward the Doctor, brandishing her weapon.  /Oh, there is no way.  Not now!/The Doctor was currently trying to bluff his way free; finger held out, whole body bent with the effort of it.  “No, no, no.  Hold on.  Override loophole.  Security protocol ten.”  Nothing.  “Six-six-six.  Er, twenty-one!  Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight.  I don't know; forty-two?”  At a loss, he went for broke, ducking.  “Er, One!”The host stilled.  “Information.  State request.”Breathing again, Rose crept closer.  /Three more steps and I can give it a whack./  She thought she saw Foon also sneaking up on the thing, holding a length of rope from somewhere.  /I just have to get close enough to hit it from behind and the bloody thing’ll fall!/  She had high hopes that the flying gear had been disabled enough by Bannakaffalatta’s sacrifice that it wouldn’t be able to recover in time.  /Just a bit closer./“Good.  Right,” the Doctor blustered away, eyes flitting from her approach vector to the evil angel and back.  “You've been ordered to kill the survivors, but why?”/And so we’ve gone on to step four.  Or, D, I suppose/ Rose thought as she gained the deck and circled round, hoping the damned thing was too focussed on the Doctor to notice her just yet.“Information.  No witnesses.”It was worse to hear something so awful from a thing using such pleasant, helpful tones.“But this ship's going to fall on the Earth and kill everyone!  The human race have nothing to do with the Titanic, so that contravenes your orders, yes?”/One would think!  But so far, that’s not been our luck on most Christmases, so I doubt it./  By now she had moved round behind the thing, found herself standing next to Foon.  The tear-stained woman was holding her rope out like a noose by now; looked like she planned to loop it over the angel’s head.  /Hm.  Maybe we can work together./“Information.  Incorrect.”Rose tried to catch Foon’s eye, but she was solely focussed on her prey.  /Damn.  We’ll just have to wing it, like he’s doing right now./ “But why do you want to destroy the Earth?”“Information.  It is the plan.”Raising her makeshift bat, Rose leaned back, setting her entire body weight behind the blow.  /The minute it stops givin’ out useful intelligence, I swing./ Having caught sight of her batsman’s stance, the Doctor winced a little, though he was well-aware that he couldn’t stop her taking unilateral action.  “What plan?” he nudged, by way of buying her time.“Information.  Protocol grants you only three questions.  These three questions have been used.”The Doctor shot Rose a look, did a tiny nod.  “Well, you could have warned me.”“Information.  Now you will die.”The Doctor was already ducking as the thing raised its halo.  It didn’t get far, though, since right at that moment, and before Rose could swing, Foon threw her loop of rope round the creature’s arms.  “Gotcha!”Rose let loose at the same moment, nearly knocking the thing’s head off.Taken utterly by surprise, the robot tilted slowly over to fall toward the abyss.  But Foon was still holding her end of the rope.  “Let go!” Rose screamed at the woman, who appeared willing to let the damned angel drag her down with it.  At a loss, she lurched forward and caught the back of the shiny, purple shirt.  It was terribly slick, but luckily, just then the Doctor dove in to help her.  Together, they dragged the grieving woman back up with them before she, too, could topple over the edge and be lost. The angel went on falling, though, so it seemed its flight-gear had, in fact, been compromised.  /Thank goodness!/  Panting, they sat in a heap on the edge.  At first Foon struggled with them like she wanted nothing more than to join her husband, but after a second, she gave in and just sat there, head down and shuddering.The Doctor’s eyes on Rose’s were beyond grateful.  “No more,” she told him softly.He nodded, expression set and ferocious.  “No more,” he agreed with great feeling. It took some convincing to get Foon moving again, but somehow they did it, with a lot of kindly cajoling (and some not-so-kind encouragement).  Probably helped that they could also now offer a far more dependable insistence that she wasn’t going to be left behind.  “If the bridge could hold me, Mr. Copper, Astrid, and Bannakaffalatta—and remember; he’s a cyborg, so he’s heavy!—then it can take you, Foon, so c’mon!”It was an alarming experience, but the nitrofin metal did, in fact, hold.  Finally across, Rose pulled the screwdriver out, set it to the right frequency, and opened the door while the Doctor was still urging Foon off the bridge.  “Got it!”“Great job, Rose!” he called to her, then gave Foon a shove that sent her wheeling into Rose’s arms.  She caught the woman, with Mr. Copper’s help, and together with Astrid, they dragged her back onto solid ground. “Why?” Foon was saying, over and over again; nearly catatonic with grief.  “Why?  Why not just let me go with him?  Why?”“Because no-one else has to die today!” Rose told her sharply, eyes on her man. “Not one more!” he added, fierce with it.  “Not a single other soul!”Once through the bulkhead door and back into the corridors, the Doctor turned to them, raging with intent.  “Right.  You lot.  Get yourself up to Reception One.  Once you're there, Mister Copper; you've got staff access to the computer.  Try to find a way of transmitting an SOS.”  Panting, the old man nodded wordlessly.  “Here!” the Doctor added, taking a First Aid kit from the wall and thrusting it into the old man’s hands.  “You're also going to need this.  I need you fighting fit.”“Alright.”Spinning away, he turned to the next person on the team.  “Astrid, you're in charge of this.”  Taking the EMP transmitter from Copper’s limp hands, he shoved it into hers.  “Charge this.  Once it's powered up, it'll take out a host within fifty yards; but then it needs sixty seconds to recharge.  Got it?”  Spinning away before Astrid could respond to this likely ghoulish-sounding request, he settled his eyes on Rose.  “Here.  Give me the screwdriver.” She did.  He did some quick adjustments to the settings, then handed it back.  “I've preset it to open any door.”“Alright.”  She knew by now he was likely planning some grand escapade; one he didn’t want her to share.  She would wait till he was done outlining it before she decided if she was going to fight him on it. When his eyes met hers again, they were resolved and unshakeable; unwilling to allow for argument.  “Get them up to Reception for me.”  She opened her mouth to tell him he could get Slade or someone to do that bit, but before she could speak, he cupped her face in his hand, his eyes riveted on hers.  “Please.  I’ll come back to you.  I promise.”“Doctor,” she whispered.  He always did this, damn him!“I promise,” he repeated urgently, then leaned in and kissed her hard again.  “Now; go and open the next door.  Go on, go!”“And what’ll you do?” she demanded, furious now.He looked into her eyes for a second longer, then turned away without an answer.  Before she could call him on it, Slade interrupted.  “What about me?”Ignoring him, the Doctor reached out to lay a kindly hand on Foon’s stooped shoulder.  “Just stay with the group, Foon.  Please.”Foon was too overwrought to respond.  Noting it, Rose knew what was needful.  Giving in, she caught her Doctor’s eye.  “I’ll see to it.”“Thank you.”  And he meant it, his tones rich with gratitude. /Still love it if you’d tell us where the hell you’re going, but…/  Foon needed her.  Likely the whole group did, if he was scarpering off somewhere. “I said, what about me!” Slade demanded, apparently furious that he hadn’t been given a job. Whirling on him, by now at a breaking point, the Doctor shouted back.  “What about you?”Slade was, of course, mortally offended.  “I like that!”The Doctor had such a glare pinned on the man by now that he stepped back a full stride.  “Well, the one thing you could actually do to be useful, you won’t, so why bother?  Even though it’s costing me my most irreplaceable assistant!”/Ah.  He would ask him to escort Foon, but since he’s done nothing but devalue her and try to drive her and her husband to their deaths, he’s not going to risk it.  Hence, it’s on me./The Doctor’s disdain was real as he turned away, back to Astrid.  “Astrid, where're the power points?”“Under the comms,” she answered him, looking pale and unnerved.“Right.”  They knelt to charge the EMP transmitter.  “When it's ready, that blue light comes on there,” the Doctor told her hurriedly, holding the silver cylinder close to the port.  He then shoved it into her hands./Wireless charging, hm?  That’s useful!/“You're talking as if you're not coming with us,” Astrid pointed out in shaky tones./Oh, Astrid, you’ve got it in one./Looking away from her, he finally met Rose’s eye.  “There's something down on deck thirty-one.  I'm going to find out what it is.”/Oh, right.  That makes sense./  “Of course you are,” Rose told him, unsure whether she was horrified or proud of him in this moment.  Maybe a bit of both.  /And he needs me to see them safe.  While he goes on alone.  Because of course he is!/Astrid glanced from Rose to the Doctor.  “But…  What if you meet a host?”The Doctor was clearly just over it by now.  “Well, then I'll just have some fun,” he answered with a smirk that almost looked like he was spoiling for a fight.  Which he might be, by now, after losing too many people.Astrid absorbed this for a second, still holding the stick out for charging.  “Sounds like you do this kind of thing all the time,” she ventured.“Not by choice.”  He came to his feet, hand seeking Rose’s.  “All we do is travel.  That's what we are.  Just a pair of travellers.”  He rocked a bit so that his shoulder lightly rapped against hers.  “No tax, no bills, no boss.  Just the open sky.”Rose knew a pitch when she heard one.  /You’re so predictable, you./Astrid watched them for a second, then surveyed her EMP.  The light had gone reassuringly azure.  Pocketing the rod with downcast eyes, she shot her shot.  “I'm… sort of unemployed now.  I was thinking the blue box is kind of small… but I could squeeze in it.”  Her eyes flickered hopefully up to meet theirs.  “Like a stowaway.”The Doctor glanced very deliberately over at Rose; seeking tacit permission before inviting her along.  Having known it was coming, she had already considered it.  And much as she wanted a bit of time alone with her Doctor, thought he needed it…  /We’ll figure it out./  Anyway, she liked this woman, even if she wasn’t a patch on Martha.  /And a couple of trips won’t hurt anyone.  Give her a thrill.  She hasn’t had many.  She earns her keep; and she’s just lost a fiancé, so…/  “Would you like to see the universe, Astrid?” she offered.Astrid’s eyes turned lovely with surprise and relief.  “Oh, if you’ll have me, I’d love to!”By the Doctor’s constipated expression, he was trapped somewhere between happy, the way he always was when he found a new person to drag off with him, and uneasy because it wasn’t usually the best idea for newcomers to join in.  “It's not always safe,” he cautioned.“Oh, I’ll be alright!  Anyway, I’m not like poor Foon.  I've got no-one back on Sto.  No family, just me.”The Doctor exchanged one last glance with Rose before holding out his hand to bring her to her feet.  “Then we’d be happy to have you along for a trip or two, Astrid Peth.”Clasping her hands together over her chest, the forgotten EMP device thumping her from the apron pocket, Astrid squealed with delight and did a sort of jump-and-curtsey.  “Oh, you won’t be sorry!  I promise I…”A loud bang from outside distracted them.  Letting go of Rose’s hand, the Doctor turned on his heel to address the callbox behind them.  “Mister Frame, you still with us?”‘It's the engines, sir,’ the youth called back, sounding quite terrified by now.  ‘Final phase.  There's nothing more I can do.  We've got only eight minutes left.’The words galvanised the Doctor.  “Don't worry, I'll get there.”The determination in his voice was like a tonic.  Though, Frame didn’t seem to think so.  ‘But the bridge is sealed off!’“Yeah, yeah, working on it,” the Doctor muttered flipping switches.  “I'll get there, Mister Frame, somehow.”  He gave his retinue one last glance, as if committing them all to memory or checking their status.  “All charged up, Astrid?  Good.  Mister Copper, look after her.  Astrid, look after him.  Rose…”“I’ve got her,” Rose assured him, one arm slung round the silent Foon’s shoulders. His relief was her reward as he turned away to face the last member of their ragtag party.  “Rickston… look after yourself.”  His eyes touched on Rose’s once more.  “And I'll see you again, I promise.”“You’d better.”Rose watched a bit forlornly as he headed back toward that awful, rickety bridge.  /Please be safe./  Aloud, though, she only said, “Alright.  Let’s carry on!  Back to Reception!”  With him gone, they needed a leader; which was half of why she had had to stay.It took some doing, opening the doors while attending to Foon, who was basically somnambulating around by this point, going wherever she was urged.  After the second door, Slade growled something about “That cow will be the death of us!” and made to snatch the screwdriver from Rose’s hand.  “Here; let me, while you manage her!”Rose pulled the device away from him.  “You don’t know how to use it.  Anyway…”“He said it’s been pre-set!”  With a sneer for Foon, who didn’t appear to even hear them, thankfully, he added, “You look like you’ve got your hands full, so…”Rose played keepaway with him for a bit, glaring.  “Look.  If you wanted to be useful, you could actually help keep her moving so I could do it.  But since we can’t even trust you to have enough of a heart to do that, the best you can do right now is stay out of the way!”Growling imprecations to ‘vot’, the man subsided.  But at the third door, when Rose found herself fumbling to employ the screwdriver and keep Foon upright, he broke again.  “Honestly, give it to me!  You can trust me!  I won’t mess it up!”Her hands really were too full.  “Alright!” she gave in.  “Take it!  But you’d better not lose it; or he’ll kill you, and then I’d do it again after him!”     Her ferocity seemed to startle him.  Blinking a little at her vehemence, Slade took the screwdriver from her hand without further comment, and set to opening the next door while Rose concentrated on keeping Foon upright and shuffling forward. They got inside door three… and were immediately confronted with several hosts. Slade, who was already halfway in, executed a surprisingly nimble backward leap to escape back to the room he had just left.  “Do it!” he shrieked.Astrid stepped valiantly forward and blasted the sinister angels with the EMP.  The lot of them collapsed like their strings were cut, leaving the group cheering and jumping about like excited rabbits.  All except for Foon, of course, who seemed indifferent to everything right now.Rose was beginning to get a bit concerned about her.  She hadn’t spoken since the bridge, eyes dull and uncaring.  She didn’t have much time to try to suss out the woman’s state of mind, though.  /We’ve got to get this lot safely to Reception.  Then…/Then, she rather thought she would go try to find her way to the Doctor.  /He won’t like it, but that’s not my concern.  What is is helping him with these people, and keeping him safe!/  Anyway, she simply didn’t trust him to do it himself when she wasn’t there to keep an eye on him.  He was too adventure-prone.  /So’m I, but I think we cancel each other out./As if to confirm her thoughts, Rose passed through a doorway and promptly had to jump away from a host, almost bearing Foon back down to the floor with her as they reached Reception only to be accosted again.  Before anyone even had to say anything, though, Astrid held out the by-now-recharged EMP and blasted the four hosts hanging about the room. Down for the count and no longer a menace, they posed no threat as the survivors straggled into the familiar, wrecked space.  Rose settled Foon into a red velvet chair near the bar, marched over and seized the screwdriver from Slade, and turned round to figure out her next course of action.  “Right.  You lot; stay here where you’re safe.  I’m going back down.  I’ll seal the doors behind me.  Astrid, do you mind giving me the EMP?  I know it’s important to you, but I promise I’ll bring it back.”Astrid, who was standing at a table cursing at the computer there, glanced up at her.  “You’re going to help him?”Rose nodded firmly back, settling herself for the journey.  “Always.”A nod, and then to her surprise, the girl turned to Mr. Copper, expression set.  “Mr. Copper, keep an eye on the host in case it recovers.  The computer’s banjanxed.  EMP fried it.  We need the SOS, so maybe you can try to get it working?”She sounded like she, too, had benefitted a bit from the Doctor’s leadership college.  /Well, two’s better than one if she’s not afraid to run the gauntlet again!/ “Rickston…” Astrid went on, already marching past him toward the lectern.  And, good on her for realising her power in the face of the rich bastard’s disdain.She faltered, though, at his glare.“Rickston,” Rose insisted, adding her voice, “Make yourself useful for a change and protect Foon.  Keep her from doing anything stupid.”  The boys could manage up here without them, she thought.  /I won’t talk Astrid out of it if she’s insisting.  I could use the help./ “What?” Slade was saying, sounding impossibly offended.  “You want me to see to this…”Rose didn’t at all have the time for his bullshit, got right in his face.  “Listen!” she hissed at him, furious at his bigoted obstructionism.  “She’s lost her husband and saved your life twice!  I’d think you might owe her more than insults!  Anyway, we’re all in this together, so stop being a twat!”Blinking in apparent startlement at her growled imprecations, the toff reset himself to protest-mode.  “Oh, I hardly think reprogramming the host counts, when it…” “No.  Enough.  She did what you couldn’t; stepped up when she was needed when you didn’t do a damn thing but try to save your own worthless arse.  And she was ready to sacrifice herself for all of us.  She definitely helped save you the second time round…”“That was you!”“That was both of us, so shut your gob!”  Rose was so over this man it was pathetic.  “Get off your high horse and make amends!” She was in full brass-mode, by now.  Still, she was a bit startled when he acceded, walking over to stand in the same general area as Foon’s chair; almost as if he was frightened of her.  /And I’ll take it!/  “Right.  Good.”  Turning her back on the gaping blokes, she set the sonic to seal the doors, let off the necessary blast to close off the room.  That task completed, she then marched over to where Astrid was grabbing up what looked to be teleport bracelets.  “Oh.  Great idea, Astrid!”  /Way to use what we have to your advantage!/  This woman was intelligent enough, for sure.“Doesn’t much help us unless there’s enough power left,” Astrid pointed out grimly, and engaged the speaking-tube.  “Bridge?  This is Reception One.”Frame’s young voice sounded jittery and anxious as he answered.  ‘Who's there?’“Astrid Peth.  I’m here with Rose.  We were with the Doctor.  Listen; can you divert power to the teleport system?”Frame seemed to take this question with some umbrage.  ‘No way!  I'm using everything I got to keep the engines running!’Astrid seemed unwilling to accept this answer.  “But we need to get to deck thirty-one!”‘And I'm telling you, no.’/Now he firms up.  Great./Astrid met Rose’s frantic eye.  “Mister Frame, this is for the Doctor,” she insisted.  “He's gone down there on his own, and I…  We can't just leave him!  He's done everything he can to save us!  It's time we did something to help him!”/Oh, he really can pick ‘em, can’t he.  Well said, Astrid!/Frame hesitated, then, ‘I can do one at a time.  Not both at once.  Giving you power to bracelet one, now.’Rose watched Astrid disappear, held her breath in case the teleport ran out of juice.  “Mr. Copper, you’re in charge!” she got out.“Good luck!” Copper called back.  He appeared to be opening up a host’s head.Then, thank god, the tingling began.  ‘Power to bracelet two.  Hold on!’Clinging tight to her teleport, Rose followed Astrid to deck thirty-one.*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

THIRTEEN:
“…One person can have the power and the money to hide themselves on board like this; and I should know, because…”Having only just landed, Rose stared round the gathering of golden hosts, over her Doctor’s shoulder.  They were on some sort of platform; one end connected to a repair bay, the other hanging over the engines.  The heat of the nuclear storm-drive was immense, beating up from below.  /Lot closer than we were up there at that skinny little bridge.  Probably they use this to store these things because most humans wouldn’t be comfortable down here for long, so it’s no use for anything tourist-related./ She turned back to the bulkhead wall.  Watched as a sort of cube on wheels came rolling out of a steaming chamber to one side.  Not that it was odd that it was steaming.  Everything down here seemed to be a great mass of wreckage; dead hosts everywhere, lying on repair tables, the ceiling a mass of dangling things; and everything overheated. The rolling cube took up most of her attention, though, for the simple fact that there was a head sticking out of the top of it!  Worse yet, the head was speaking.  “…My name?  Is Max!”It was the man from the promo videos upstairs, if a bit plastic in appearance.  Also, the gold tooth actually did that glinting thing, despite the glass shell over it. The Doctor appeared to be on the same page.  “Huh.  It really does that!”Rose looked away from the monstrosity before them, seeking for Astrid.  Couldn’t see her anywhere.  /I hope she made it safe!/Squaring her shoulders, she closed the distance, pushing between hosts till she reached the Doctor’s beleaguered side.  “Hullo!” she called as she joined the tableau, her shoulder brushing his wrinkled sleeve.The hosts were all staring at her, by now, which was unnerving as hell; as was the disembodied head.  The Doctor’s stare, though, was the most worrying.  “Rose!  How…”“Long story.  You can thank Astrid later; she came up with it.”  Turning away from his stunned expression, she nodded at Capricorn, who she had only just noticed, had just the one eye.  The other was filmed over, silvery.  /Android eye?/  “Very Star Trek, that.”  She had seen something like this on there once, late at night while staying over at Shareen’s.  Her father had been very into Star Trek.  “You know, like that one captain in the buggy?”“But…  Where’s…”“Dunno where Astrid is,” she updated him with another quick scan of the massive chamber.  “Round here somewhere.  Everyone else is safe up in Reception.” “Who the hell is this?” Capricorn demanded before the Doctor could reply.  He sounded fairly upset that he wasn’t the centre of attention.Reminded that their antagonist existed at all, the Doctor turned back to him.  “Oh.  I'm the Doctor.  Hello.  And this is Rose; my dear companion.  A bit headstrong, but I’ll take her.”“Oh, hush,” Rose told him, digging him in the side with her elbow.Capricorn glanced over at the attendant hosts.  “Information!”“Information,” the nearest one answered in agreeable tones.  “Stowaways.”“Well…” the Doctor murmured, and gave over.Capricorn appeared to find this uninteresting.  “Kill them,” he pronounced impatiently.“Well, that’s abrupt,” Rose accused as the things all turned their way.  /Where the hell are you, Astrid?/  What with everything, she hadn’t taken the EMP from the girl, given both woman and device would be coming with her.  /Could use it, now!/The Doctor had begun to lean toward mild panic, judging by his expression.  “No, no, no.  Wait, but you can't.  Not now!”  Nothing.  “Come on, Max!  You've given me so much good material!  Like, how to get ahead in business.  See?  Head?  Head in business?  No?”His frantic stabs at humour were ridiculous.  “Wow,” Rose told him, wry with disbelief.  “That was worse than Dad’s puns.”His swift glare was offended enough that despite the terrible situation, she laughed at him.  /Gotcha./  Mostly, though, she found herself looking wildly about the vast space, seeking for the missing Astrid.  /Could use you right now, girl!/Unlike Rose, Capricorn appeared to enjoy the Doctor’s attempts to alleviate the tension.  “Oh, ho-ho’ the office joker!  I like a funny man.” His smile faded, and he looked a bit querulous.  “No one's been funny with me for years.”“I can't think why,” the Doctor said in an aside to Rose, and slipped his hand absently into hers. And all was right with the world again.  Disembodied heads, deadly angels, and a missing Astrid aside.Capricorn had gone grim again, though.  “A hundred and seventy-six years of running the company have taken their toll.”/A hundred and…/  “Good doctors on Sto,” Rose quipped, amazed.“Big advances in medical knowledge in the last thousand years,” the Doctor replied by way of explanation.  “Nice wheels, though,” he added for Capricorn’s benefit.“No,” the CEO disagreed.  “A life support system; in a society that despises cyborgs.”/Oh./  Rose found herself wondering why a society with the technology to prolong life with cybernetics would consider it a negative to employ them.  /Doesn’t make much sense.  Though I guess on Earth we have all the stuff we need to help with mental health issues, but it’s like admitting to a character defect to say you need ‘em, so we’re not immune./“I've had to hide away for years,” Capricorn went on, sounding very put-upon.  “…Running the company by hologram.”  His head turned slightly toward the nearest angel.  “Host, situation report.”“Information.  Titanic is still in orbit.”They had to jump out of the way as the buggy rolled ponderously forward, heading for the railing behind them.  “Let me see.  We should have crashed by now.  What's gone wrong?”  Reaching the edge, the head peered over into the abyss.  “The engines are still running!  They should have stopped!”“When they do, the Earth gets roasted,” the Doctor pointed out, tones bleak.  “I don't understand.  What's the Earth got to do with it?”“Yeah.  It’s not as if they even know you exist!” Rose chimed in.  “They can’t testify to whatever you’ve done, here!”  Obviously, he had in fact done something, if he wanted his own ship to fail.Capricorn’s expression flattened.  “This interview is terminated.”The hosts began to close in on them.  “No.  No, no, hold on, hold on, hold on!” the Doctor insisted, backing away with his arm across Rose.  “Wait, wait, wait, wait!  I can work it out.  It's like a task.  I'm your apprentice.  Just watch me.  So, business is failing and you wreck the ship so that makes things even worse.”  The light-bulb went off.  “Oh, yes!”  And just as swiftly, he deflated.  “No.”  Back again.  “Oh.  Yes!  The business isn't failing; it's failed.  Past tense.”“How does that matter?” Rose asked, frowning over it. Capricorn, though, looked enraged.  “My own board voted me out.  Stabbed me in the back.”“Your back?” Rose asked at the same time as the Doctor added, “If you had a back.” He sent her a swift, appreciative smile, then turned back to the disembodied thing.  “Alright.  So, you scupper the ship.  Wipe out any survivors just in case anyone's rumbled you, and the board find their shares halved in value.”“Oh, for chrissake…” Rose groaned.  “You’d get along great with Rickston Slade.”“Yes,” the Doctor agreed.  “Oh, but that's not enough, is it?  No!  Because if a Max Capricorn ship hits the Earth, it destroys an entire planet!  Outrage back home.  Scandal! The business is wiped out!”It made a ridiculous sort of greedy sense.  “Oh, wow.  You’d destroy an entire planet and everyone on it for a payout?”“Not just a payout!” Capricorn answered back.  He sounded impossibly conceited.  “The whole board thrown in jail for mass murder, as well!”“So, for revenge.  That’s disgustin’.”The Doctor obviously felt the same.  “While you sit there, safe inside the impact chamber,” he added, tones riddled with distaste.“I have men waiting to retrieve me from the ruins, and enough off-world accounts to retire me to the beaches of Penhaxico Two; where the ladies, so I'm told, are very fond of…”  A little, twisted glance down at his cuboid body.  “…Metal,” he finished, saying it like he had also developed the same fetish.Rose rolled her eyes at the predictable miserliness of it all.  “Why does it always come down to stockholders and shares and money?  And sex, I suppose.  I’d’ve thought everyone would be past all that out here by now!  Well, maybe not the sex bit,” she allowed, “but as to the rest…”“Depends on the planet and the century, doesn’t it?” the Doctor answered, sounding terribly dry.  “Apparently Sto is still very into that sort of thing.”/Lovely./  “We should introduce this one to Cassandra.  They’d get on very well.  And neither of them have a body anymore, so that wouldn’t matter, would it?”The Doctor’s eyes twinkled at her, as if he found this suggestion to have great merit.  “The trampoline-woman and the head-man!  Sounds like a dime-store novel, doesn’t it?”“Very pulp,” Rose agreed sagely.  /Wonder if Astrid was accidentally sent to the wrong level?  Or if she’s been captured by hosts back there somewhere in the repair bays?/  Looking back over her shoulder, she sought for a familiar black dress amidst the wreckage behind them, but saw nothing and on-one.With a sigh, the Doctor resettled his hold on her hand and turned back to Capricorn.  “So that's the plan.  A retirement plan.”  His entire being was censorious now.  “Two thousand people on this ship, six billion underneath us; all of them slaughtered, and why?  Because Max Capricorn is a loser.”The jibe hit its mark.  Capricorn’s disembodied face went starkly furious.  “I never lose!”Rose wondered how many times she could roll her eyes in one day without them falling right out.  “You can't even sink the Titanic!” she taunted him before the Doctor could say it.“But at least we understand the irony of the name, now,” the Doctor agreed, somewhere between amused and disgusted.“Oh, but I can,” Capricorn returned, thus recapturing their attention.  “I can cancel the engines from here!” Not a pleasant prospect.  /But not if we can use the bloody EMP, so where’ve you got to?/  Granted, using it in here might kill the man, if he was wholly dependent on the systems inside the box that served as his body.  But really, between him and the people still alive on this ship, it might be a fair trade.  /I mean, it’s not as if he hasn’t lived his life and then some!/  “Alright, but that doesn’t make any sense!” Rose shouted, fighting to retain the grasping man’s attention.  “If you could do that before, why didn’t you?  Why the elaborate bullshit with the hosts?”“No reception from inside the impact chamber.  But I’ll get back inside in time.”  Before Rose had the chance to mourn that she hadn’t grabbed the bloody EMP from Astrid and tucked it beside the sonic screwdriver in her bosom, something blooped from inside the cube.  Like a button had been pushed.  Apparently one had, given the response. Behind them, the engine’s muted roar cut off abruptly.  The gravity on the ship immediately responded by swooping down to an angle as the vessel settled into a ponderous nose-dive.  ‘Titanic falling!’ the computer informed them from somewhere back by the bulkhead.  ‘Voyage terminated.  Voyage terminated.’They were suddenly too busy shifting their balance to stay upright, had no time to flee as a gloating Max Capricorn called, “Hosts; hold them!” The horrid angels closed in, sending them struggling to escape.  “You can't do this!” the Doctor accused wildly, fighting with everything he had at Rose’s side.“Not so clever now, Doctor,” Capricorn taunted, ignoring their terror.  “A shame we couldn't work together.  You're rather good.  All that banter, yet not a word wasted.”  His gross, silvery eyes turned on Rose.  “And this one.  Too bad she seems uninterested in powerful men… and metal.”/Ew/ was all Rose could think as the host closed round them, seizing their arms in an unbreakable grip.  /What is it with me bein’ propositioned by bellends, lately?/“But still!  Must carry on!  Time for me to retire.”  The cube began to back off.  “The Titanic is falling.  The sky will burn!  Let the Christmas inferno commence!”  Rolling away again, the creepy thing called over his shoulder, “Oh.  Host.  Kill them.”Before the angels could swing, though, another player joined in the fray.  “Mr. Capricorn!”They followed the familiar voice back to the bulkhead opposite the engines.  It was Astrid.  In the same instant, both Rose and the Doctor noted that she had gotten a forklift from somewhere.  “I resign!”  And she lifted the EMP, pointing it out from the front opening of the vehicle as she rolled inexorably closer. “What is that?” Capricorn demanded, staring back at the frazzled blonde woman in the heavy machinery.  “Some sort of weapon?”“It didn’t work from that far back,” Astrid called to them, careering ever nearer in her borrowed ride.  “I tried to stop him before he could turn off the engines, but it just wasted the blast!  Had to wait for it to recharge!” /Kept herself out of angel hands.  Nice./  By the state of the blinking blue light on the side of the cylinder, it was close to back in business.  /Moment of truth/ Rose thought, wincing internally.  “Might be the only way,” she told her bloke, aware of exactly how much he would hate this solution.  /But what choice do we have left?/ The Doctor flinched; aware that diplomacy had thus far gained them nothing, but still unsure that there had to be any more deaths.  “Astrid!” he equivocated finally, “it’ll kill him!”  As if he wasn’t entirely sure if it was worth it, even though it was likely the only way for them to win out.Too late, anyway.  The blue light went solid, and she automatically hit the button before anyone had the chance to reconsider.  The shock-wave of the EMP blasted out… but though the angels round them shook as if in a high wind, this time they did not fall.  “Oh, it’s too far away!” Rose shouted, aghast.  “We’ve used it too much!  That’s the fourth pulse since it’s been topped up!”  Now the thing would need sixty seconds more to recharge enough for another go; and even then, they would have to be right on top of Capricorn and the angels for it to do anything!  /If it does anything at all, next time!/Bannakaffalatta’s sacrifice had carried the survivors all the way back up to Reception, but it seemed that even that magickal MacGuffin had reached the end of its usefulness. Realising it, Astrid’s stressed attention shifted briefly to the Doctor’s face, then to Rose’s.  In that instant, and very visibly, resignation took the place of certitude.  With the ship tilting under their feet, losing even the power to maintain full gravity at this level, the situation was clearly dire. It was as if the failure of the EMP had sent her reeling to some desperate action.  /What are you…/“Turn the ship back on, Mr. Capricorn,” Astrid ordered firmly, eyes hard as pebbles on the former human being in his metal box.“Oh, I don’t think so!” Capricorn taunted her back.  “And you work for me?  Oho, not for long!  I’ll see to it you never work in hospitality again!”  By now, spittle flew from Capricorn’s rubbery mouth to land on his glass casing.  “I’ll end you!  How dare you come down here and…”Her former boss’s ranting appeared to have an effect on Astrid.  Expression oddly emotionless now, she put the forklift into gear and headed straight from the bulkhead toward the cube with the disembodied head on top.  As she passed, she threw the faltering EMP toward Rose, who caught it automatically.  “What are you doing?” she shouted aloud this time, horrified. The ship was falling fast.  And the EMP needed too much time to come back on-line.  Without it, the hosts wouldn’t let go of their captives till Capricorn was no longer in charge of them.  Astrid clearly knew that; and moreover, that either way, his death would clear the androids’ command structure, leaving them free to seek the bridge and help restart the engines.  And Max Capricorn, trapped in his cube, could as easily be destroyed in the fading, whirling fires below as he could be by EMP blast. They had figured out her plan a bit too late.  By this point, everything was moving too fast to stop it.  “Astrid!” the Doctor chimed in, struggling in earnest now. /She means to kill him one way or the other; so we can get out and save everyone else./They couldn’t escape the impossible strength of multiple hosts.  Not yet, anyway.  But Astrid had things well in hand thus far.  She had the forks of the small tractor under the cube in a trice.  Capricorn promptly set to pushing against the forklift; setting them against one another like two rams battling it out over a mechanised barnyard.A host not directly engaged in holding them aloof had removed its halo, and now flung it at the cab.  It missed Astrid, glancing off the metal upright.  Rose was relieved until the Doctor shouted, “It’s cut the brake line!”Rose caught the Doctor’s eye.  The EMP would be back in business any second.  /It’ll have, what?  At least a quarter of its original power?  But we’re close.  It’ll at least get the hosts.  Might even get Capricorn!/ The only solution right now was to use the device, if they were to free themselves of the heavenly host and help end this mess of a situation.  But in so doing, Capricorn would still quite possibly expire.Not much time left to vacillate.  By now, Astrid had hit another of her myriad levers.  Rose had no clue how the girl knew how to drive the thing, or if she was just winging it, but either way, the groaning forklift shifted…  And now Capricorn was well off the ground, his tyres gaining zero purchase on the deck.  Only problem was, they were still careering forward toward the guard-rail, the incline of the ship at this failing gravity turning the struggle into a sliding, mobile battlefield. Which is approximately when Rose caught on to their friend’s heroic intention.  /If she can’t get out, if he’s still pushing against her, she’ll have to stay in till the last second.  She’ll have to…/  “NO!” she heard herself shout, and lifted the EMP.  Like everything lately, they were helpless to an external countdown.  The object was still blinking, but it had to be close to recharged, right?  /And we’re definitely close enough!/  They had to get away from the hosts! One of them tried to grab the cylinder from her hands.  The Doctor reacted automatically, seizing the white-robed arm and holding it away from her so that she could duck away.  Still trapped amidst the scrum of them, Rose set to dodging their attempts to rieve them of their one remaining weapon.Meanwhile, still struggling with Capricorn, Astrid now bore a sort of resigned, determined look.  Like she would indeed follow through.  No time.  No way to change it.  And the Doctor knew it, too. Rose ducked another clumsy grab just as the light on the EMP went blue.  It was now or never.  “Do it, Rose!”Capricorn’s wasted life for Astrid Peth.  Seemed a good trade, so Rose hit the deadly button.  /Over a hundred-fifty years is long enough!/To their brief but massive relief, the failing device did work this close to.  Golden angels all round them crashed to the deck, leaving them free.  They were already dashing over toward the railing before the last one slammed down to the scaffolding.  But.The unfortunate side-effect of the EMP’s abrupt destruction of the cube’s functioning electronics was that it did, in fact, reach Capricorn this time.  And, when Capricorn expired, his metal body also ceased pushing against the forklift. Worse, the two vehicles were by now so tangled together that Astrid couldn’t get loose.  And with the way the deck had tilted under them… the slide was a mortal one. “Astrid, JUMP!” the Doctor and Rose screamed as one.  And she did try.  But it was too late. No longer restrained, made grabs for another falling woman’s hands.  But this time, they missed.  /Not close enough!/  Their unfortunate proximity only treated them to a last, horrific image of another innocent—one more person who didn’t have to die today—vanishing in the fading inferno below.  /Oh, God…/That was an impression Rose wouldn’t get out of her mind anytime soon.  /Why her?  She did everything right!  God; if only I’d taken the EMP from her like I planned to, maybe she’d still be alive!/Grief was worse when it was all wrapped up in guilt and second-guessing.  That whole ‘hindsight is twenty-twenty’ saying? It hurt.‘Titanic falling!’ the computer repeated, unaware of the catastrophe that had just unfolded in the ship’s bowels.  ‘Voyage terminated.  Voyage terminated.’Attention jerked back to the still-extant situation, Rose closed her eyes.  She absolutely hated to see that look on the Doctor’s face.  Laid a hand on his arm, unsure what to say.  ‘I liked her too’ wasn’t at all helpful.  Especially not now, with that bleak look there.  /Too many tragedies in too short a time.  Not sure I can hold him together if it keeps happening./  And, poor Astrid!  She’d been a good ‘un; and she’d never really had a chance to enjoy herself! The cold fury spread.  The Doctor was no longer in a place to speak as he spun on his heel and ran, implacable and almost feral with renewed grief.  Rose hurtled after him; away from the scene, the flotsam of fallen angels as he sprinted for the rear of the repair bay.  For whatever might have been well out of range of the deteriorating EMP’s waning final blasts. It took her a second to realise what he planned.  “Sonic,” he demanded, hand held out to her.Wordless, she handed it over.  He took the tool, did a quick setting change, and slammed it into the golden skull of one of the reclining robots, left behind here to be repaired after glitching upstairs.  Not smashed or pinned like the one in the stairwell, it took only a swift bit of contact with the screwdriver to get it back on-line.  Seconds later, and while the thing was still standing up and orienting itself, he had another up and running.  Then, eyes livid on Rose’s, he held out his elbow like he was seeking an escort.  “Bridge,” he insisted, and seized her arm in his. She jumped when her free elbow was taken by the second revived host.  Before she could respond in any way, they were being lifted into the air; flown straight up through the centre of the ship.  /Good thing the gravity’s low right now.  Makes it easier to tow us up./  She followed the direction of their flight… and saw that they were fast approaching what looked very much like an actual bit of wooden decking.  /Oh.  We’re going to the bridge.  Alright./  That was a good thing.  /What with the ship falling to Earth, and all./Seconds later, they were bursting right through the floor of the bridge.  Luckily, the golden fists and heads to either side took the brunt of the impact.  /So much for deadlock seals./ Grateful that she, too, wouldn’t be falling into the engines today, Rose scrambled up through the hole and held a hand out for a by now relentless Doctor.  To one side, a young man in an open, black uniform coat with brass buttons and a blood-stained white dress shirt had fallen back against the bank of computers at their abrupt and dramatic entrance, sputtering in shock. ‘Deadlock broken!’ the computer intoned by way of announcing their presence.Midshipman Frame was a sweet-faced lad of about eighteen, nineteen.  He was currently lying half on the floor staring at them in amazement while the falling liner tilted and groaned, caught in Earth’s gravity. “Ah, Midshipman Frame.  At last,” the Doctor called, already jogging toward the wildly-spinning ship’s wheel.  He had his gelid wrath well-contained at the moment, in deference to more immanently important endeavours.The lad stared at the angels surrounding them.  “But… the hosts!”“Controller dead, they divert to the next highest authority,” the Doctor explained, tones even despite the tragedy that had just occurred.  “And that's me.”  He flickered his unyielding eyes toward Rose.  “See if there’s a first aid kit up here,” he bit out shortly.  “He’s been shot.”“Right!” Rose answered, darting over to the wall.  “Where is it?” she added for Frame’s benefit.  The entire time, she was worried as much for how her Doctor’s hearts were bleeding out, as well.  /But, one bit of first aid at a time./ Anyway, the Doctor was in no mood for healing just now. “Er… Over there,” Frame stammered, pointing.  “Bolted under the auxiliary panel.”  Holding his seeping side, he then stared from the Doctor, who was now fighting the wheel, to Rose as she scrambled over to free the metal box from the clips holding it beneath the computers. “What’s the plan?” she asked briskly of her enraged bloke as she made her way back over broken bits of floor.“If I play my cards right here, I can get the engines back on.”  By his harsh tones, he was not about to lose another round to this nonsensical calamity.“Glad to hear it!”  She didn’t bother to ask how.  He knew what he was doing; and by doing it, he might expiate some of his perceived sin in not having rescued Astrid.  /Even though it’s as much my fault we lost her.  Anyway, he’s got to save someone to-night, or he won’t be able to cope.  Which means, helping him and otherwise staying out of the way.  No distractions./ Leaving him to it, Rose set to doctoring the young bridge officer as well as she could.  She’d done this any number of times during the godawful year they had just survived, after all.  Enough that she could tell at a glance that he somehow hadn’t nicked any organs.  /Or he’d already be down for the count.  Blood loss is his biggest issue, right now.  And shrapnel, in there, if it’s mushroomed./  The bullet seemed to have gone in cleanly, the hole small and circular… but there wasn’t an exit, either.  “You need a surgeon, I think.”  /Too bad we don’t still have one on hand./ On the other, what might have happened to Martha if they had had her?  /Best she’s safe.  We’ve lost too many people today!/  “I’m impressed,” she added by way of encouragement.  “I’ve seen a number of people just give up after they’ve been shot, and here you are carryin’ on.”  There had been that one young man, down on Earth during the Year That Never Was; an ex-soldier who had fled from the Queen’s Guard before he could be forced to serve the Master.  He had joined the resistance, only to be shot as a deserter by his own fellows the very next day. It had taken the poor kid two days to die, and he’d done it in agony the entire time.  Martha had done her best for him, along with the medic they had scrounged from the slave houses; but in the end there had been nothing they could do for him.  /And I’ll never forget what that was like.  Neither will she, either./  In a way, Rose figured if they had to lose anyone—Morvin, Bannakaffalatta, or Astrid—at least they’d all gone quickly.  /It could always be worse./ Frame appeared embarrassed by the praise.  “I did my duty.”“And very well!” Rose assured him, upping her estimation of his abilities and poise as she did so.  /Sittin’ up here in distress this whole time, losing blood by the quart…  And still doing his part.  Tough kid./  Closer to, he was scarcely an adult, as well.  /Maybe eighteen if he’s a day.  Well, good on him./Frame didn’t flinch as she patched him up, eyes on the Doctor where he struggled with the wheel.  “There's nothing we can do.  There's no power.  The ship's going to fall.”As if in confirmation of his words, the computer chipped in with another helpful, ‘Titanic falling.’Instead of acknowledging the terrible nature of their predicament, the Doctor merely nodded.  “What's your first name?”Frame appeared surprised by this query.  “Alonso.”‘Titanic falling.’This time, the Doctor fully turned his upper body away from the wheel to stare at the young officer.  “You're kidding me!”Rose joined Frame in staring at the seeming non-sequitur.  Something about the lad’s name had injected some much-needed whimsy back into the Doctor’s voice.  She was grateful, of course, but why?“What?” Frame asked for the both of them, voice rough with pain as Rose strapped the final bandage tightly round his torso to add pressure. “It’s just, there's something else I've always wanted to say.”  Without meeting her eye, his gaze focussed solely on the rising Earth, he added, “I’ve gotten two in today, Rose!”“Yeah?” she asked, just glad that he could find something to be pleased about.  He always did manage to find a way to keep his own spirits up in the heat of the moment.  /You’re good at that; till the end, when it’s safe to collapse./  “What are they?”  Might as well play along; keep him ticking over.He grinned delightedly, though she could hear and see the shadows still hanging heavy on him, just under the surface.  “Earlier I told the hosts to take me to their leader…”“Oh, wow.”  /And of course that worked for you!/“And now this!”  He freed a hand to gesture enthusiastically to the prone kid.  “Allons-y, Alonso.  Whoa!” he added, spinning the wheel wildly./Well, alright.  Whatever works for you./An alarm sounded.  Rose lifted her gaze to the windows, saw fire licking over them.  /Damn./  “Enterin’ the atmosphere?” she asked softly.“Good thing we’re the right shape,” the Doctor agreed.  “More or less, anyway.”  He gave the wheel another hard yank to keep them on an even keel.  “Waves or re-entry, it’s all about taking the impact head-on!”She had Alonso back on his feet by now, hand pressed to his side but looking a bit less peaked.  Which meant she noticed with them when the licking flames vanished.  The ship had fallen low enough to penetrate the clouds… which of course revealed a number of new worries to be added to the bonanza. A curse drew her attention back to the Doctor in time to catch his nod.  “Now you’re free to help, hit that scanner there, will you Rose?  I can’t reach it and keep this level.  ‘Less I use my foot, and that’s not dignified!”Rose dusted absently at her sticky, bloodied hands as she complied.  “You’ve never cared that much about dignity before,” she pointed out, then frowned at the map that showed up on the screen.  A big, bright, blinking light like a target informed them they were heading right toward west Central London.  “Oh, Christ.  Is our luck ever gonna change?” she bitched tiredly.“Hasn’t yet!” the Doctor answered grimly as he freed a hand, grabbed up an old-fashioned-looking phone.  “Oh.  Hello, yes.  Could you get me Buckingham Palace?”“Just like that, is it?” Rose asked, not at all surprised.  He was, after all, well-acquainted with that lot, given all she had learned in the last year about how well he was known by UNIT. The Doctor didn’t bother to spare her words just then.  “I need you to evacuate Buckingham Palace, yesterday!  No!  Alright, listen to me.  Security code seven-seven-one!  Now get out of there!”The streets and buildings were getting awfully close.  In fact, Rose thought she could identify some parts of the city that had birthed her as they plunged to ruin.  She found herself wondering if it would be cowardly, at this point, if she were to close her eyes.  /Come on!  Come on!/They would hit at any moment.  /And that’s the end of everyone.  Even if the engines are offline, they’re still nuclear.  They’ll kill every living thing!  Everyone we’ve just worked so hard to save!  Everyone Astrid sacrificed herself for!/  It hardly seemed fair. Before Rose could entirely resign herself, though, at the very last second, there came a roar and a rumble beneath their feet; one she couldn’t quite credit.  Then, ‘Engines active.  Engines active.’Her eyes must have shut involuntarily, because they snapped open again at this announcement.  Just in time to witness the Doctor as, catching the impossible notification just in time, he yanked back hard on the heavy, wooden wheel. Nearly at a level with a newly-repaired Big Ben, he was fighting a losing battle to get the ship’s nose up.  And Frame, who had toppled back against the wall at the change in gravity, wasn’t able to help even if he wasn’t wounded. Without thought, Rose leaped forward to add her strength.  Side-by-side, she pulled with her man as they sought to keep the futuristic liner from impacting directly with the royal residence, of all things.Rose did close her eyes one more time near the end; this time consciously.  But with a feeling like the deck was shooting up under her feet, and no enormous impact, she opened them in time to see them swoop literally right over the top of the palace.  She even thought she caught a glimpse of a familiar figure in a pink dressing-gown waving up at them as they soared back up toward the clouds.  “Oh!”“God save the Queen!” the Doctor shouted, excitement and triumph roaring in him with a new goodwill.“Doctor save the Queen,” Rose corrected, gasping for breath as the mad moment passed.  /We’ll take every win we can get, I suppose!/The ship began to level off, ascending back to space.  And under them, full gravity reasserted itself, planting her feet heavily on deck.  It was an almost odd feeling, that weight, after so much topsy-turvy-ness.  Rose felt her relieved chortle exit before she realised it was coming, before she heard the Doctor’s triumphant guffaw.  Behind them, Frame lay against the wall, chuckling weakly in disbelief.  “We didn’t hit!  WOOO!”The Doctor whooped with him, then disengaged the wheel and gave it a triumphant spin before pivoting to capture Rose in his arms. He deserved this moment.  And she would take it, too!  Happily hugged him with all her might, face buried in his neck.  “Oh. My. God.”He didn’t answer.  Just clung tight to her, his speedy, overwrought breathing slowing as the reality of it hit him; that once again, they had pulled one out. She recalled another him, in another time, saying in another voice, “Oh, come on.  Give me a day like this.  Give me this one.  Everybody lives, Rose.  Just this once, everybody lives!”Everyone hadn’t, this time.  /But./  “You saved the Earth again.  Twice in forty-eight hours, actually, if that helps any,” she told them, in full understanding of what that meant to him.  /That he did save them all… but that he couldn’t save everyone./“Not alone,” he murmured, rough-voiced, into her nape.  A tribute, she knew, not just to her, but to poor, fallen Astrid.  And what could she say to that? There wasn’t much left to say about it, unfortunately.  /We won, but we also lost badly today./“But…  How…” Frame was asking, stammering with shock. “Used the heat of re-entry to fire up the secondary storm drive.”  Lifting his head, his visage maniacal with relief, he found her hand.  “Unsinkable, that's me.”“That’s us,” she corrected softly, and clung tight to their contact.  With what had happened belowdecks, they both needed the grounding reminder of it.As aware of that central truth as she was, he lifted their linked hands to kiss her knuckles.  “Better be.”Behind them, Frame stared out in awe as they resumed orbit.  “We made it.”  He sounded like he still couldn’t quite believe it.The Doctor sobered.  “Not all of us,” he told the officer, tones gone bleak again./Yeah./  “I’m sorry,” Rose whispered.The Doctor opened his mouth to answer… then froze.  “Teleport!  She was wearing a teleport bracelet!”  Abruptly letting go her hand, he dashed right out the door. /Alright?/  Unsure what to make of his odd behaviour, she held out a hand to Frame.  “C’mon.  Everyone who’s still alive is down in Reception One.”“Alright.”  Stumbling forward with her help, the wounded midshipman feebly led the way down from the bridge.***“Mr. Copper!” the Doctor was shouting as they reached Reception.  “I need you!”Right on his heels, half-dragging the stumbling midshipman, Rose handed the poor kid right off to Slade.  The prat didn’t even complain this time, expression still a bit blank in his relief.  By his side, Mr. Copper just looked grateful to be alive.  Foon remained apparently catatonic, not that Rose at all blamed her.  Dashing over to catch hold of the blank woman’s arm, she gave Copper a shove.  “He needs you!  Go!”  /If there’s something we can do…  Then we have to do it now!/The Doctor had already dashed right over to the lectern that held the teleport bracelets.  “Mr. Copper, the teleports!  Have they got emergency settings?”  On the assumption that whatever those settings were, they had been engaged, he was already puttering about with the insides.  In seconds and before the older man could answer, he had a handful of white wires pulled out and was sonicking them for all he was worth, setting their little blinking lights dancing like decorations to the nearby Christmas tree.“Ah…  I don't know.  They should have,” the tour-guide answered a bit noncommittally./Why emergency settings?/  Rose would have asked, but she rather got the feeling that an interruption would not be at all helpful right now. When he was like this, the Doctor preferred not waste time explaining his motives.  “She fell, Mr. Copper!  She fell.” Yeah, and as long as she lived, Rose didn’t think she would forget the image of that poor girl sailing slowly down into the firestorm.  /Just one different decision, and…  Well, then I suppose we’d be in another universe, wouldn’t we?//But then, how…/“What's the emergency code?  Hurry!”Shaking himself back into action, Copper stumbled over, holding his head.  Likely he had a terrible migraine right now, with that injury.  Put together with shock and the abrupt comedown from a long-lasting adrenaline high, and it was amazing none of them were laid out flat yet.  “Er, let me see,” he told the Doctor, and began fiddling with instruments at the top of the lectern.New to this game, Frame stared at the Doctor like he’d gone mad.  “What the hell are you doing?” he asked; not censoriously, but more as if he was deeply confused by the Doctor’s new explosion of energy.The Doctor didn’t spare him a glance.  “We can bring her back!”/Oh.  Well, if it’s at all possible…/  Rose well knew that teeth-bared, furious look on his face.  /He’ll get her back or die trying./  She knew how hurt he got when people died on him, even if he’d only known them a few hours, but this…  /Oh, Doctor…/He was still prodding at the wires with his screwdriver, muttering things under his breath about molecules and resonances.  Sensing all their confused gaping, Copper made to answer Frame in his stead.  “Ah, if a passenger has an accident on shore leave and they're still wearing their teleport, their molecules are automatically suspended and held in stasis.  So if we can just trigger the shift…”“Ohhh,” Rose answered, stunned.  /But…  If he brings Astrid back, can he also do it for Morvin?/  Foon clearly needed the man.  /But they gave back their bracelets, didn’t they?/  Her eyes caught on the stand next to the lectern, saw that only two were missing.  /Mine, and hers.  Damn.  Well.  So much for that./  She looked over at the stricken woman, saw that she was not at all paying attention.  /Honestly, I hope she doesn’t register any of it.  It might hurt her less./  Though, she was sure to take note if Astrid suddenly reappeared in the room, wasn’t she? “There!” the Doctor cried triumphantly after a moment, and stared ahead of him, at the centre of the empty, rubbish-strewn chamber.  There, floating amid all the damaged appointments, a ghost appeared; hovering a few inches above the floor.  An image of Astrid. “I'm falling…” the apparition told them in terrified, puzzled tones.The Doctor immediately dove back into the wires.  “Only halfway there.  Come on!”Whatever he was doing, it didn’t seem to be having much further effect.  “I keep falling.”  The tone of it was haunting, and honestly more than a little painful.  The hazy perplexity on the woman’s transparent visage would stick in Rose’s mind for a long bloody time; right next to the vision of her falling, and whether she could be fully brought back or not.  /Not sure what’s worse; this, or seeing her go down./“Feed back the molecule grid,” the Doctor was saying, hands moving so fast that they almost blurred.  “Boost it with the restoration matrix…” Astrid flickered, going a bit less opaque rather than moreso.“No, no, no!  Need more phase containment.”The image thinned.  “Falling…  Still falling…”/It’s not going to work, is it?  Oh, but that’s even worse for him!/  It didn’t look like too much fun for Astrid, either.  /Feeling like you’re falling to your death forever?  No thanks!/She flickered, going fully translucent.  Rose had to look away.Mr. Copper was the first one to try.  “Doctor…”He wasn’t ready to hear it yet.  “No!  If I can just link up the surface suspension…”“Doctor, she's gone.”He didn’t spare Copper a glance; rigid with certitude.  “I just need to override the safety.  I can do this!  I can do it!”/Oh, God./  He needed to hear someone else say it.  Someone who could get through to him.Approaching, Rose held out a hand; ready to help him when he finally admitted it was over.  “Doctor…”Copper tried again, expression truly sorrowful.  “Doctor, let her go.”His eyes came up; struck Rose’s briefly, like hammer blows.  “I can do anything!”Astrid flickered again; barely visible now.  “Stop me falling,” she pled.This was breaking Rose’s heart, and she wasn’t even the one who had conceived the traitorous hope that was now breaking both of his.  “Doctor,” she tried again.  “I feel just as guilty.  I let her come.”  /Could have been me, if she hadn’t…/  He’d know that, too, just from hearing her say it.  Knew that she shared his shame over their shared failure.  “But if we can’t…”“NO!”  He refused to look at her as he worked away at the wires.  They, too, were flickering badly now; on the verge of going out completely.“There's not enough left,” Copper ventured, reaching out but not quite touching him.  “The system was too badly damaged.”/Oh, Astrid…/“She's just atoms, Doctor.  An echo with the ghost of consciousness.”/And that consciousness wants to move on, if it can’t stay./  Aware of how much he was hurting right now, Rose closed the final distance.  Laid a hand on the screwdriver to still it, the other between his wildly-beating hearts… and looked up into his wounded eyes.  “Let her go.”  /It’ll hurt us both to do it, but if he knows that, maybe it’ll help him./She saw it when that last tiny thread of hope broke inside him.  /Oh./  It hurt badly to see it.  Probably hurt a deal worse to feel it.“She's stardust,” Mr. Copper intoned softly, sounding both pained and a bit hopeful about it.Rose closed her eyes against the look on the Doctor’s face.  She would miss Astrid as well.  She’d been a lovely girl, full of life and hope and a willingness to move beyond the mundane.  So much potential, but for a few different decisions…  /And now, gone.  Nothing left.  No chance to travel./ She had felt a bit guilty already, about her own ambivalence to letting the woman join them even briefly.  For wanting some time alone with the Doctor, even if she still thought it essential, what with everything.  But now that it wasn’t going to happen, she could also feel regret for the missed opportunity.  /I could have shown her around a bit.  The woman who scarcely got to leave home, much less see anything.  And now…/The Doctor was staring at the fading apparition, tears in his eyes at this latest failure.  In his mind, it would only compound all the others he felt he had caused—as if this was any of his fault any more than the Master’s deeds were.  Likely it would also compound his penance, in his own mind at least.  “It’s not your fault,” Rose tried again, though knowing it wouldn’t salve his anguish.  /Not mine, either, really.  We all do what we can, and hope for the best… and sometimes it’s just not enough./The Doctor wasn’t there yet, though.  “She did it to save me,” he whispered, tones ragged.  “To save us all.”/And if she hadn’t been brave enough to come down with me and help, would that be me right now?  Would I have done it the same way she did, or done something else that was equally mad?/  No way to know anymore; but it compounded the trauma for a person with like amounts of survivor’s guilt from the past year, to know that someone had sacrificed her life to save Rose and those she loved.  “Because she was strong, and intelligent, and awesome.  But it was her choice.  And Mr. Copper’s right.  Now she can be part of the stardust of the universe.”  She knew what that meant to him if no-one else did.  “Part of the stars she wanted to see.  Not such a bad ending, I think, for her.”The Doctor’s answer was choked with unshed tears.  “I hope so.”  Stepping round toward the ghostly figure, a bittersweet smile stole over his face; creasing cheeks stained with weeping.  “Astrid Peth, citizen of Sto.  The woman who looked at the stars and dreamt of travelling.  Now you can travel forever.”  Lifting his tool one last time, he pointed it at one of the portholes.  The oxygen membrane now restored, no one was sucked out.  Just Astrid; dwindling to little speckles of light; like glitter. They coalesced around the point where the image had been, then streamed out, into the blackness of space, to join the stars.  “You're not falling, Astrid,” he added softly, tears now falling freely, tones hoarse with emotion.  “You're flying.”/It’s maybe a nice resolution for her, actually.  Better than being stuck inside the ever-agitating protons of a nuclear engine./  Rose hoped so, anyway.  “I wish she could have come with us for a bit,” she murmured, taking his hand as he stared helplessly into the night, empty fingers hanging limp.  “But I’m glad she found her peace.” The Doctor slowly lowered the screwdriver.  He didn’t speak for a bit.  Just looked out.  Rose knew some of what he was feeling because she shared it, so she held her tongue, and just let him live in the painful, beautiful moment.*   *   *

----- CHAPTER BREAK -----

FOURTEEN:
Walking toward them from the video-phone in the wall, still holding his bandaged side, Alonso Frame drew himself painfully up to give a report.  “I got the signal back.  The engines have stabilised, as well.  We're holding steady till we get help; and I've sent the SOS.  A rescue ship should be here within twenty minutes.”/Well, that’s good to know.  How the hell we’re gonna explain who we are and what we’re doing aboard is going to be a bit of a stretch, but…/Well, hopefully that lot would have more important misdeeds to distract them.On the same page, the youth added, “And they're digging out the records on Max Capricorn.  It should be quite a story.”The Doctor accepted this report with a stiff nod, but by the look in his eyes, the bleak set of his face, he wasn’t quite prepared to rejoice just yet. Rose held tight to his hand, wondering just what in the hell she could possibly do to help him through this.  Through yet another unnecessary death, of a person whose potential he had noted, encouraged… only to see it snuffed out prematurely.  /Too many, for him.  And no way to keep it from happening again.  No wonder he’s so bloody tired./ Still, she could try to help him, right?  It was what she did.  “Er, so why were you so chuffed to find out he’s called Alonso?” she asked by way of dragging his attention over to something less morbid. He blinked over at her, jerking his thoughts onto her track with visible effort.  “Oh, you know.  A lot of reasons.  But you know I like saying…”“Allons-y, yeah.  Is that all of it?”“Hm.  Not really; but to tell you the rest, I have to do something else, first.”  By his expression, whatever that was, it was something massively important./I guess I’ll bide my time, then./To one side, Mr. Cooper was working to settle himself with his upcoming interrogation.  “They'll want to talk to all of us, I suppose.”From where he had stepped aside to fiddle with the screen he’d just resurrected, Frame answered, “I'd have thought so, yeah.”Copper did a little picturesque wince.  “I think one or two inconvenient truths might come to light.”  He sighed deeply.  “Still, it's my own fault, and ten years in jail is better than dying.”/Well, that’s one way to look at it!/Slade approached then, looking oddly sentimental now he had survived the chaos.  “Doctor, I never said ‘thank you’.”  To everyone’s amazement, he grabbed hold and yanked the Doctor in for a hug (which he did not reciprocate, by the way).  “The funny thing is,” the man added as he stepped away, “I said Max Capricorn was falling apart.  Just before the crash, I sold all my shares, transferred them to his rivals.”  A broad, relieved grin.  “It's made me rich.  What do you think of that?”As if to put an exclamation point on his observation, his vone rang.  Slade answered as fast as he could.  “Salvain!  Those shares.  I want them triple-bonded and locked!”“Bully for Rickston Slade,” Rose murmured to the Doctor, sotto.He nodded slightly, though his expression remained still and emotionless./This is really gonna take some doing, to get him back right inside his head, isn’t it?/Too much had happened all within too short a time.  He wasn’t coping well.  /Not that any of us are, but…/  “At least we saved Foon,” she tried.  “And she’ll be okay, in the end.  No doubt she’s going to get damages from the company, and maybe survivor benefits as well, back on Sto; so she’ll manage.”  His expression didn’t shift.  Gamely, Rose went on, fighting for the remaining, shattered pieces of his soul.  “He might have died, but she can go on.  She’ll never replace him, of course, but she’ll go on living for the both of them.”“But we didn’t save Astrid,” he whispered, his voice cracking./Oh, I know it, Doctor, but…/  God; he had to feel like a disease by this point, with all the death that followed after him.  /But not to me!/  She could see the fury of it in his eyes, along with the bleak realisation that really, there was nothing at all he could do when it was someone’s time; no matter how powerful he might be.  /I know.  That too many have died lately.  But you brought so many of them back!  And you weren’t the one who killed any of them, alright?  Anyway, deciding who lives or dies is the sort of thing the Master wanted to do.  It’s not you!/That, “I can do anything!” haunted her with worries for his mental wellbeing.  /He might survive this, but he’s going to be hanging on by his fingernails for a while, no matter how much he pretends he’s fine and recovering nicely.  I’ll have to keep at him if we’re going to get to the core of it./“Of all the people to survive,” Copper broke into her thoughts, “he's not the one you would have chosen, is he?”  His eyes followed Slade away from them, still shooting off orders through his device.  Copper turned back then, to watch them with an odd, curious look on his face.  “But if you could choose, Doctor?  If you decide who lives and who dies, that would make you a monster.”He was trying to say that the Doctor was not one, by virtue of his having let Astrid go when it was her time; and Morvin and Bannakaffalatta as well, probably.  /But he’ll not take it that way.  Not when…/ His hand ratcheted down tight on hers, and by it she knew what he was thinking.  That it could have as easily been her, down there.  /Oh, you had better not be thinking what I think you are, sir, or we are about to have words!/ It would be like him, after this many direct and tragic blows all in a row, to run away from loss in a way that was long-familiar to him; but she wasn’t about to allow him to go back down that road.  Not for anything!  /I’m not Astrid, and I won’t let you get rid of me that easily, so just don’t try!/After a second, though, and with a voice hoarse from withheld tears, “No.  I can’t decide who lives and who dies.”  His eyes, when he looked over at her were filled with a different sort of determination than she had yet seen from him; one filled with a new sort of tentative hope.  “But I can sure try.”Well, that was better than outright despair, but what the hell was he thinking?  She couldn’t read him at all, right now!Before she could prod at it, though, the Doctor twisted round, and smoothly picked up two transport bracelets.  “Mr. Copper, I think you deserve one of these,” he announced, handing one out to the man.  He tapped the one still gracing Rose’s wrist, a faint smile hovering about his lips./Oh, well.  That makes sense./  She was glad he had chosen to give Copper an out.  He was a bumbling sort, but he was also nice enough, and deserved to have another chance at life. The two gents slipped on their bracelets.  Realising belatedly what they planned, Frame spun round from where he was bent over, trying to break Foon out of her catatonia.  As they faded out of sight, he starched up his spine and snapped a crisp salute.The Doctor and Rose answered him with their own gestures just as the battered liner vanished from around them, to be replaced, once more, with Hampstead Heath.  /Still Christmas, though, I reckon?/The stillness in the air suggested some sort of holiday.  No beeping of car-horns or sounds of traffic over there across the water.  Just a silent night.  And behind them, sitting there waiting her crew like she’d known, the TARDIS. /Well.  That’s handy./  With an encouraging smile for her bloke, Rose broke into a run and dashed over to pat the door, gratitude filling her.  /We survived; and now we’re home again.  And we’ll help each other make it through this one, too.  Between the three of us, we’ll sort it out somehow.//Everything’s gonna be just fine./***As he strode with Copper across the grass toward the waiting TARDIS, Rose dancing cheerfully ahead of them, the Doctor found himself deeply lost in some very unorthodox thoughts.  /No.  I can’t choose who lives or dies, can I?  I never could./  His eyes, falling on her like a man falling into hell landing instead halfway; suspended between two poles, and finding a heretofore unknown paradise there.  /Like always.  And maybe, this time…/Seen end-on, Rose had changed quite a bit since he had met her.  As much in the time they had spent apart, that.  /As I’ve done.  For her, and again when she was gone, as well./  In this last year, between recovering from Pete’s world, and now with this year of misery piled atop all that…  /Enough, for us?  Too much?/ He might have been altered in ways they had yet to assess… but she was far soberer more often of late.  More earnest in her intensity, more serious about the work they did together.  More confident, as well, and more aware of unspoken undercurrents.  And, moreover, she was much better at taking charge.  And she had already been getting quite good at that!  /Maybe it’ll be enough for us to…  To stay matched, even if...  Maybe all that awareness and certitude will actually keep her with me for…  For longer./ As ever, his mind closed down like a steel trap before he could even touch on the thought of what it would do to him on the day he inevitably lost her.  /Tomorrow or in fifty years, it’ll happen; but I’m aiming for that fifty; at least!/  Still a short span by his people’s reckoning, but compared to just a year or two…  /And maybe with the TARDIS’s help…  Rub the Vortex on it, see how much we can pack into those fifty years.  How many adventures, how much love, before…/Martha had told him he deserved to try.  He ought to listen to her, given he wouldn’t for his own wellbeing.  His survivor’s guilt was well-developed, after having lost his world and everyone in it in a war to end all wars.  Rose had asked him, yesterday, did he want to go see his former friends who were associated with UNIT, like Jo and Sarah Jane and the Brigadier.  He hadn’t responded, but honestly, even if it was to reassure himself that they were, in fact, alive again, it would hurt far too much to see them.  /Might mess with my head, like seeing Sarah Jane did last time.  Bung this up for us, seeing them older, wiser, more battered by time… and after knowing what he did to them in my name, over that awful year./ No.  He needed to get out of here and away from all the guilt and the shame of it, before it broke him; and with him, Rose.  /They won’t remember, anyway.  Best leave it./She would also be dealing with her own share of survivor’s guilt, no doubt; even before Astrid had given her life to save them.  /She’ll have seen a lot of loss, in the Year That Never Was.  She’ll be carrying as much as I am, in her own way./  He knew why she kept prodding gently at him to talk about it, lance the boil, drain the poison; bravely setting aside her own suffering for his sake.  Not a tenable situation, long-term, and time he admitted it, but…But he simply wasn’t ready yet.  /First I have to make my peace with accepting the future, before I can look anymore at the past.  I’m not strong enough yet.  Not till I know for sure I have a solid place to stand in the present./  And, as ever, that solid place he had found?  That impossible rock upon which he now built the entirety of his existence?  It was all Rose Tyler. One usually expected the humans travelling with him to be the ones to alter to greater extent… but not in this case.  /She’s changed me far more than I could ever possibly want to change her./  He wasn’t all that romantic before he had found her, for one.  But then, during those lives he hadn’t lost so much.  /Wasn’t so bloody needy.  Was able to be a bit more whimsical, before.  But./ More than that, that difference had merely been because he hadn’t yet encountered Rose.  Meeting her had utterly changed him; into somebody who not only preferred companionship to lighten his solitary existence—that part of it hadn’t altered much—but also one who, in the rest of his lengthy years, badly needed someone to love him.  Someone he could not just sit with in silence and enjoy the moments, but rather someone he could wholeheartedly adore.  Someone he could not only care for, but who would willingly care for him in return.  /And I do have that.  Here and now.  I haven’t lost it; and time I stop looking elsewhere./ This wasn’t merely the first time he could recall ever being this head-over-heels for anyone.  It was also the first time that by it, he’d turned reluctant to have someone with him who was fully willing to be there.  He’d resolved to turn Rose away once; a companion imperative to his existence… simply because he didn’t want to lose her in worse ways.  /Once upon a time—before Rose—it was fine when they left, because that was just a part of the deal.  And I was alright with that, in exchange for the simple fact that I wouldn’t be entirely alone.  But when it comes to her…/ Well, when it came to her, he would once in fact rather be utterly alone, for-ever, than to have her with him, because it would hurt far more to lose her more permanently.  /Thank goodness she came back to prove me wrong!/  He’d thought it enough to simply know that she was alive and well in that other universe… but it hadn’t been.  Not anymore.  Hadn’t been alright to move on to someone else, and just enjoy it for what it was.  /Not Martha’s fault.  It’s just…/ When she’d left him—both after Canary Wharf, and above, on the Valiant—it had cored a deadly hole right through the middle of him.  /One I’ve needed to fill ever since; merely to survive.  Should tell me enough that I was willing to court disaster with the Master to keep someone at my side who wouldn’t…  Who had…//Well.  Enough said./  Thing was, losing people was a given in this life; even if one wasn’t a Time Lord.  /It just goes faster for me than for them, a lot of the time.  Everyone dies, if he did.  But instead of running from loss, avoiding new scars… what if I embraced it?  I’ve done it once, now and finally; and I will never regret that!  So it follows that…/Maybe it was time to re-assert his former peace with the concept of spending whatever time he was given with them… but with her.  To regain some acceptance of the idea that this, too, could be limited… and it would still be alright, after.  /Because by it, I couldn’t possibly be any more unhinged, after; but I can certainly become more at ease, more at peace with my existence in the interim.  And that’s magickal stuff, there!  The sort of thing even universal laws, in all their wondrous variety, can’t replicate!/Rose was rather unexpected like that.  And by accepting this truth, by being willing to try, he had already been forced right past dread and into something so beautiful that he still couldn’t quite countenance that it actually existed in his life.  /For her, sure.  But not for me, of all people!/  But here it was anyway, despite all of it.  /So then, I suppose it’s like that Shawshank film.  Best get busy living, or get busy dying; but in a prison of my own making.  Grow and change… or go on in a sort of living death.  As I have been, since the War, and whenever I didn’t have her.  And it would be that; especially now that I’ve let myself slide so far the other way./Anyway, that last wasn’t exactly an option anymore.  Given she’s not about to allow it.  So I might as well set myself to do the other./Everything he had had been ripped away from him at one point or another.  Planet, family, friends.  The Master, Martha, incidental companions, ones long past grieving.  Even the TARDIS, recently.  /But not you.  Somehow, you’re still here.  Determined to stick to my side at any cost… and time I honored that, fully and completely, and made my peace with it.  And I absolutely must honour it!  Because it’s either send you away again… or fight my very hardest to keep you.  So, to that end…/ /Time to throw caution to the winds.  Just go wholly mad with it.  Now or never./He’d almost forgotten the man beside him existed; his eyes focussed utterly on Rose, stood waiting for him at the door to their joint domicile.  “So, Great Britain is part of Europey,” Copper was saying from what felt like a vast, roaring distance filled with only him, and Rose, and no-one else.  “…And just across the British Channel, you've got Great France and Great Germany…”“No, no,” the Doctor corrected him absently.  “It's just France and Germany.  Only Britain is Great.”  /Not always, but some people in it will always be./Her eyes, locked on his, drew him on like a moth to a flame.  /And if you are my funeral pyre, as I was to him, then at least I know that I myself will go happy to my eventual rest.  And better; with you, my rest comes before my end.  I never thought…/“Oh, and they're all at war with the continent of Ham-Erica…”“No.  Well, not yet.  Er, could argue that one.”  Shaking off the complications, he forced himself to trot up beside Rose.  Settled a hand not on her face, to turn it up to him, but on the TARDIS.  /Got to send Copper off first, so we can be alone./  “There she is.”  He patted one faux-wooden panel approvingly.  “Survive anything.”Laying a proud, fond hand beside his on the door, Rose smiled on their vessel.  “No new dings, is it?  No meteor-holes?  No?  Good to hear it.”The fact that she now talked to the TARDIS about the same way he did didn’t hurt her case.“You know,” Copper went on interrupting them, eyes lifted to the sky.  “Between you and me, I don't even thing this snow is real.  I think it's the ballast from the Titanic's salvage entering the atmosphere.”The Doctor frankly hadn’t noticed the flakes touching his head till Copper mentioned it.  Looking up at the sky, he frowned at the intrusion.  /Definitely not cold enough for snow.  No moisture in the air./  “Likely right,” he confirmed with faint distaste.Ballast, after all, could mean a lot of things; not all of them pleasant.Rose sent him a smile filled with little, shared confidences; one that as ever, urged him to rally.  “Better ballast than Sycorax ashes, innit?” she pointed out in chipper tones./Or ashes of the people who died up there at the hands of that bloody ‘Heavenly Host’!/  “Good point.”  Putting aside cynicism, he forced a noncommittal shrug.  “Well, one of these days maybe it’ll snow for real on Christmas.” Catching hold of his arm, Rose claimed it as her own and pulled it to her chest.  /Like she, too, never wants to let me go.  So, then…/Copper hesitated, eyes on the peeling wood of the TARDIS.  “So, I…  I suppose you'll be off.”“Yep.  The open sky.”  As he said it, he let his eyes fall back to Rose’s.  /And we’ve a thing or two to discuss, once we’re on our way./Copper flinched a bit in the Doctor’s periphery, expression gone slightly lost.  “And, what about me?”/Oh.  He’s fishing about for an invite./  He honestly hadn’t expected that.  And being real about it, after Astrid… His eyes landed back on Rose’s, saw the look in them; the yearning to be still for a bit and just be.  Just breathe, before going on to the next possibly-tragic adventure.  Knew they both needed it, as well.  Needed the time.  /If she’d lived, maybe.  But this fellow…/ Truth was, though he didn’t mind Copper, he didn’t feel that thing from him, either.  That inexplicable, instinctive pull that said ‘yes.  This one’s important.  Bring him along.’Sometimes he mistook that pull for ‘built to travel’ (as with Rose and Martha) when it only meant ‘created to do great things in the moment’.  /Like with poor Astrid./  No way for him to tell the difference, really, till it happened.  But in this case…  “Sorry, Mr. Copper,” he let the man down gently, eyes still locked in Rose Tyler’s magnetic, impossibly loving gaze.  “We’re full up right now.”  Saw her smile widen in response, knew immediately that it was the right call./For one, I don’t really want to risk anyone else who’s not up for the challenge.  I’ve got my hands full keeping this one alive.  Can’t let m’self get distracted again!/ Visibly deflated, Copper sent them both helpless looks.  “But then, what am I going to do?” Without tearing his gaze from Rose’s, the Doctor held out his hand.  “Give me that credit card.”Copper handed it over, apparently not all that hopeful.  “It's just petty cash.  Spending money.  It's all done by computer.  I didn't really know the currency, so I thought a million might cover it.”Blinking in amazement, the Doctor stared at the tiny chip of plastic.  “A million?” “Pounds?” Rose added, clearly as gob-smacked as he felt.“That enough for trinkets?” Copper enquired hopefully./Oh, you’re set then, good sir!/  “Mr. Copper, a million pounds is worth fifty million credits!”It was Copper’s turn to go dumbfounded.  “How much?”The Doctor did a quick calculation inside his head, then, “Fifty million and fifty-six,” he adjusted it for inflation.  /Given exchange rates haven’t altered much since my last trip to Sto.  Granted, that was probably fifteen of their years ago, so it might be a bit more, but give-or-take.//He’s still well set./The realisation appeared to be dawning in full.  “I've got money.”/Nice for some./  “Yes, you have.”Rose caught his eye, visibly pleased at this nice bit of fallout for a silly but rather inoffensive person.  “Quite a bit of it, as it happens,” she added softly without removing her gaze from him.“Oh, my word.  Oh, my Vot!  Oh, my goodness me.”  Doing a little jump-step, Copper began to cavort around the heath.  “Wheee!”/Well enough./  “It's all yours.”  Holding out the rather valuable bit of plastic, the Doctor gestured toward the city, the world beyond it.  “Planet Earth.”  /Luckily recovered and ripe for the enjoyment of it./  “Now, that's a retirement plan.  But just you be careful, though,” he added a bit sternly, and fixed a warning finger in Copper’s direction as he handed the card back.  /Don’t flood the market or use it to hurt anyone!/“I will, I will!” Copper agreed, sounding breathless with the possibilities as he clutched the precious object tightly to his chest.  “Oh, I will.”“No interfering!” the Doctor cautioned, because it might need a second saying of it.“Yeah, we don’t want any trouble,” Rose chimed in.  “The people on this planet have just had a hell of a time.  They can’t manage if someone from another world came along and caused them hardship.”Her admonishment caught the aging man’s attention.  “Oh, no!  Never!”/Good, then./  “Just, just have a nice life,” the Doctor added for good measure.“But… I can have a house!” Copper told them, clearly astonished at the thought.  “A proper house, with a garden, and a door, and…  Oh, Doctor, I will made you proud!”  He stepped a bit away, staring into the middle distance, rapt with the vision of it.  “And I can have a kitchen with chairs, and windows, and plates, and…”“I don’t think he’s gonna be a problem,” Rose told the Doctor in an undertone. /Seems not, if that’s the shape of his greatest ambitions./  “Er, where are you going?” he called after the flummoxed former tour-guide.“Well, I've no idea!” Copper answered, sounding a bit dazed.The Doctor found himself gazing down at the top of Rose Tyler’s gleaming head.  /He’s entranced at the idea of doors and tables.  I’m entranced looking at her.  At what she’s given me.  What she wants to keep offering me; every day./  “No, me neither,” he admitted softly… and found as he said it that that did, indeed, sound like the most incredible of adventures.  /One I’ve never really had.  Not like this.  And it’ll be… amazing.  Every day of it!/“He should go to Ham-Erica,” Rose murmured in an aside for the Doctor’s ears alone.  “He won’t stand out so much there for being ignorant.”The Doctor narrowly managed to hold back an amused snort.  “Too right.”Copper turned back, eyes darting between them.  “Just wanted you both to know…  I won't forget her.”Jolted out of his very fond thoughts, the Doctor recoiled at the reminder.  Felt Rose flinch with him.  She settled her fingers the more firmly in the fabric of his suit-coat, then, as if to shore him up when he faltered.It might be incipient madness, but in that moment, the Doctor thought he saw a zig-zag of blue starlight zipping about above them, in the sky.  /Among the stars.  All any of us are in the end is stardust.  So maybe that’ll be alright as well, when it happens.  For the both of us.  Ashes, and stardust… and if we’re lucky, a bit of love.  A bit of peace./Could he really ask for more?  /Especially on this day./  “Merry Christmas, Mister Copper!”“Yeah, happy Christmas!” Rose agreed, waving at the man as he trotted off to participate in his humble future.The man called the greeting back to them before going on his way, chortling about gardens and a mailing address./And we’ve our shared world again; and our home… and most importantly, we’ve got each other./Holding out his hand, the Doctor opened the TARDIS door.  “After you.”Instead of leading the way, Rose simply stood there, watching him with an odd look on her face.  “Doors and gardens and chairs,” she murmured him, and reached up to brush her fingers over his cheek, where new lines of pain were etched beside the smile-lines she alone had given him. He exchanged a knowing look with her, aware of where she was going with this.  “And slate rooves, and kitchens…” he pried gently.  Better to be sure, before…/Good job I remembered to get it back, after the quick loan of it.  Insisted on it, rather.  This is its right place, anyway.  Didn’t help her, because it wasn’t hers./ /It was always meant for this moment.  For here and now./Watching his expressions curiously, Rose tucked her arm firmly into his again, recapturing it to pull him in with her.  “It’s alright for some,” she reassured him firmly, “but it’s not for everybody.”/Alright, then./  “No, it isn’t, is it.”  /Could be, someday, but for now…/  As she sidled past, he held the door for her, to invite her back for good.  /Last chance to get away, and then…/Bestowing upon him an impossibly loving smile, Rose Tyler rejoined him inside.***They were alone in the TARDIS again; walking between familiar bronze walls, amid familiar accoutrement.  Given everything he was going through right now, she couldn’t but believe that was a good thing.  As proven when he spoke next.  “You know, we might not have made it, today.”“Or last week, or last month,” she reminded him immovably.  “And yet, here we are.”“Yes, here we are.”  His expression was once more illegible to her.  She wondered what the hell he was thinking lately.  /I might not have made it and neither might he.  Life or death, even for such a stupid reason as stocks and personal vengeance… but we’re here, and we’ll go on, and that’s all that matters.  Because as with the tougher stuff that came before, we’ve made it!/“He’s right, though.”  Off her confused blink, “Mr. Copper,” he added for context.  “I can’t decide who lives and who dies.  All I can decide is what I’m going to do with the time we have, and the people around us.”His odd mood was beginning to penetrate her simple joy in being back inside the TARDIS with him.  “Talk to me,” she urged gently, but with feeling.His eyes lit on hers, filled with an indefinable light.  “I am.”  He stepped closer to her, till he was right in her bubble.  Not that that was ever a bad thing, but better when she could read him!    /What’s up with you?/ she thought, but didn’t get a chance to say it.  He was fishing about in one of his rumpled tux pockets, appeared to be holding something tight in one fist now.  “Best he left, though.” He seemed agitated. “Alright?  I agree, but…”“For one thing,” he interrupted her, eyes fairly glowing on hers now, “I’ve an ulterior motive.”“Oh?  I like to hear that.”  /What the hell is he on about?/To her growing alarm, he settled back on his heels; like he wanted to bounce but was manfully restraining himself.  “But aside from that…  Well.  You’ve stayed on for longer most…”“Oh, yeah?”  /And that means what?/“Yeah.  Through sheer, unadulterated stubbornness…” She shared a questing grin with him.  “You complaining?” she felt him out.He got a bit closer to her, his mood turning wild; almost fey.  “Not even a little.  And since it seems as if I really can’t get rid of you…”“No, you really can’t, can you?” she agreed, unsure how to take this strange, reckless mood of his.  Her smile faded a bit, then.  “Other dimensions aside…”“Well, that being the case…”  The fist where he held something whitened a bit, and he sucked in a breath so deep that it almost scared her.  “I’ve been thinking…”  His eyes lifted back to hers, rising from his clenched fist.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to do for a long time.  Something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but there was always a reason…”“That happens, with us.”  She was really beginning to feel concerned.  Was he losing his mind, after everything in the last year?  /Wouldn’t be surprised, honestly./She wanted to ask him if he was alright, but he was on a roll by now, couldn’t be slowed.  “True.  Thing is, I’ve been wanting to give you something, but I haven’t known how.  So I might as well just do it, before I can talk myself out of it again.  Because yeah.  I can’t decide if you’ll live or die… and I knew that when you first came back to me.  Knew that it wouldn’t change, though; because I knew it didn’t matter.”  He exhaled loudly, and she could hear that he was shaking with some sort of intense emotion.  “And realising it has been the loveliest thing I’ve ever been brave enough to do, because it’s allowed us to become even closer…”“And you won’t hear me complainin’!” Rose assured him, still baffled.  /Nice to know he feels the same way, and doesn’t regret it!/“Me either.  And given I still can’t face that idea, you know I will do everything in my power to bind you to me.”  His eyes seemed fevered now, on hers; like he was driving on to something so massive that it dwarfed the ship they had just left.  Dwarfed its fate, even.  Like he could steer them, too, right above the rocks of ruin, and make them soar.  “If you’ll let me.”  And he opened his hand.She stared down at the object in his reddened palm.  A circle of gold, gleaming in the mellow light of the control room.  Seeing it, she sucked in her own stunned breath, unable for a moment to speak.  /Oh./ It took a second before she could quite countenance that this was actually happening.  Then…  “Are you kiddin’ me?” she demanded, eyes flying up to his.  She had frankly forgotten to wonder any further about what Martha and Jack had said to him, yesterday.  Not once she’d been thoroughly distracted; first by his maddened grief, and then again by being crashed into by an errant space-liner, so…  But now she knew what the hell they were all wittering about.  /Am I dreaming?/His fingers slipped beneath her chin, lifting her eyes away from the symbol; back to his, so she could see how very much he meant it.  “No,” he told her, softly and yet oh-so firmly.  “Actually, I made this for you while I was still trying to get you back; before I burnt up the sun.  Made it right off, before I landed on the projection as the only option.” “I…  Really?”  Somehow, she still couldn’t quite fathom it.  Couldn’t believe…His tones went a tad agitated, his body jittering once more in memory of that awful moment.  “I thought if I ever did get you back, then I could put a dampener on you.  One that could be worn… but it wasn’t just about that.” “Well, that’s…”  She trailed off, momentarily lost for words.He stilled her before she could find them, fingers brushing over her lips to silence any protests, any shocked stammers.  “Because if I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” he insisted gently, “then why shouldn’t I finally try to keep you?”By now she had no words left to speak.  She could only stare dumbly at him, mouth probably hanging open like a fool.  But to think he would…  /And so far back?/She simply couldn’t assimilate it.“It’s also an interdimensional disruptor,” he informed her with a kind of sure certitude she had never heard from him before now.  “Kill two birds, and all that.  Produces a dampening field strong enough to keep someone with you even if they’re being pulled away.”  His mouth twisted slightly along the edges.  “So long as there’re no huon particles, anyway,” he qualified. “What?”  Why wouldn’t her brain work?  /Probably because this is an even bigger shock than when he kissed me!/ “Never mind,” he waved it off.  “Not important.”  By now, his expression had turned longing, on hers.  “It’ll stop you being pulled away from me,” he repeated.  “No matter what.  If you need to teleport, or what-have-you… I’ll have to turn it off.”/Well, it’ll save me from unwanted transmats!/  Her brain still felt a bit numb, her reaction-time slowed by astonishment.“And after what happened…”  He did such a sharp intake of breath that she wasn’t sure if he was recalling Canary Wharf, or a year ago on the Valiant./Well, if it stops teleports, good thing you didn’t, I reckon./His expression turned condemning.  “I should’ve just done it when you first got back.  I had it this whole time, after all; so I was already decided.  I thought if I ever got the chance, I’d use it to keep you, if I ever saw you again.  But I didn’t want to interfere, either, because I know you have your family waiting for you back there.  Seemed a bit selfish of me.  But if you truly want to stay…”She found a few words in there somewhere, finally.  “Stop it,” she breathed.  She couldn’t cope with the idea that he had just been carrying this around the whole time they had been back together.  Like an emblem of things she hadn’t dared dream he might mean.  Knowing that that he would push his original lunge this far, take this risk…  /For me./ /But then, why did you put it off for so long?/His fingers dropped away from her lips, pressed to her heart instead.  “It’d be nice to have some sort of insurance that I won’t lose you again.  That I’ve really managed to capture you, somehow.  That you’ll never leave.”He didn’t mean just the dimensional part, and she was floored anew.  “Well, given that’s already happened,” she managed, with some irony by this point.  /Does it need sayin'?/“And you came back.”  His tones went fierce; almost shockingly so.  “And I want it all, now.  All the time we get and then some.  If you’ll do me the honour, Miss Tyler.” /And that’s done it for him.  Imagine./  She of all people knew with precision how vast a leap he was making; and anyway, why would she ever say no?  “I’d love to wear that,” she told him softly, and held out the requisite hand. He hesitated in the act of sliding it on, lifting her right hand as well, and holding them both in his.  “There’s… a custom.  On Gallifrey,” he managed, round what sounded like a massive lump in his throat. “Alright?” she prodded, terrifically intrigued now.  “G’wan.”  /Always ready to learn more about where you came from!/He cleared his throat firmly, like he was about to propose something even more mad than he’d just done.  “It has to do with the two hearts.  We’d start off with it on the right side; where the secondary heart was put in…”/Put in?  What…/“…The one we’re granted when we go out into the universe.  The one we weren’t born with, but which is meant to save us from the rigours of our work.”“Oh.”  Well… that was incredibly symbolic, wasn’t it?He was only beginning, though.  “Then, on the day, we’d move it to the left; to where the original, primary heart is.  The one we’re born with, and the one we can’t survive without.”  His eyes were riveted on hers by now, praying she understood what he was saying.  “Though, if you want one for that side as well, I can get you one, since I know you’ve only the one heart, and your own traditions to honour.”/It’d go on the hand of mine he always holds./  It seemed impossibly fitting.  “I’m alright with that,” she told him, and shifted to holding out her right hand.  /I’ll get you one as well; as soon as possible./  “Though, after what I’ve seen, I’m surprised you don’t go in for something more permanent among your people.  Like a tattoo or something,” she teased, eyes stuck hard and staring as he slid it on; an image she would always recall, like a slowed-down, frame-by-frame moment of an impossibly perfect film. It fit perfectly, settling to her finger like it had always been there.  The weight of it, its very powerful presence, made her feel like an entirely other person, somehow; here, with him, in this space she had never thought to see again.  /Certainly not while wearing something like this!/“Well, people did various things,” he told her, eyes focussed with hers on the new adornment.  “But we would do this one sometimes as well.  With a few variations.”“Does that mean I get to give you one?” she asked him softly.  Inside her mind she was already planning ahead to a trip to an interplanetary bazaar, maybe.  /To find just the right sort./“Of course!” he told her, eyes lifting to hers and filled with scandal.  “And not just to honour your legacy as well.  Granted…”She lost control of herself, flung her arms round his neck.  He took the drag with alacrity; lifting her high, arms wrapped so tightly around her that she could scarcely breathe.  And spun with her, her feet dangling miles off the ground.She felt like she was flying; all while safe in his arms.  As she laughed with him, for the moment all sorrow and tragedy fled.  Because this?  Was a rare moment of complete and utter joy.  /And no more fear./They danced that night, all through the TARDIS, and through their own hearts.  And the next day, they started an entirely new life.  Together. 
FIN

(End of Part III)